tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40484178013667216242017-08-16T10:55:56.898-07:00Thomas DragoThomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.comBlogger75125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-80114893329429137132017-08-15T20:25:00.002-07:002017-08-16T10:55:56.946-07:0040 Years Later. The King's Best Songs.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YwFsbrH2wz4/WZMpi1JlADI/AAAAAAAAAvA/gndSZy7omUc3V0ENlztB5XHezaplBCOhQCLcBGAs/s1600/Elvis%2B1968.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="973" data-original-width="1225" height="253" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YwFsbrH2wz4/WZMpi1JlADI/AAAAAAAAAvA/gndSZy7omUc3V0ENlztB5XHezaplBCOhQCLcBGAs/s320/Elvis%2B1968.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I can't believe Elvis died 40 years ago. When we first heard the news, my mom and I sat together on the stairs near the living room and cried. My dad's gentle <i>"You still have me"</i> not enough to comfort. Even now, all that matters to me is his music. I don't give a shit about anything else. Each time I hear his voice, he tells me <i>"I love you."</i> I could never ask more of an entertainer. Or of anyone else.<br /><br />Elvis recorded 711 songs in the studio. They've also released hundreds of his live cuts and alternate takes. Here's my list of his best 40 songs in chronological order with minor annotations. These aren't necessarily my favorites. Some are. That would've taken a completely different approach. You don't have to be a dedicated fan to enjoy these treasures. They're revolutionary and timeless.&nbsp;Sift through the crappy '60s soundtracks and the maudlin country of his latter years and you'll find pure gold.<br /><br />1.&nbsp;<i>That's All Right</i> (7/54) - The Big Bang. As soon as Elvis, Scotty, and Bill jump on this vintage blues track by Arthur Crudup in tiny Sun Studios under the guidance of rock-n-roll founding father Sam Phillips, music and culture are never the same. Also, check out the '68 Comeback performance and his live rendition from August 1970. Two completely different, yet equally remarkable, treatments. The first of three Elvis songs that inspired me to pick up the guitar.<br /><br />2.&nbsp;<i>Blue Moon of Kentucky</i> (7/54) - The "b" side to "That's All Right." Every bit as riveting and controversial. Audiences didn't know what to think of Elvis' rhythm and blues adaptation of this Bill Monroe country and western classic. Neither did Bill Monroe until he finally conceded and re-recorded his own song in Elvis' style!<br /><br />3.&nbsp;<i>Good Rockin' Tonight</i> (9/54) - Elvis kicks it into high gear on this second Sun single. The template for all rock songs to follow: driving lead guitar, howling vocals, sexy undertones.<br /><br />4.&nbsp;<i>Baby, Let's Play House</i> (2/55) - This fourth Sun single finds Elvis exuding confidence and humor. Bill Black slaps the bass while Elvis' hiccuping underscores another sexual romp.<br /><br />5.&nbsp;<i>Mystery Train</i> (7/55) - The haunting melody and Scotty Moore's churning guitar riff reflect Elvis' longing to conquer the road and subsequently the nation. Fittingly, this was his final single at Sun.<br /><br />6.&nbsp;<i>Heartbreak Hotel</i> (1/56) - Nobody, including Sam Phillips, thought this choice for Elvis' first national release through RCA would score big. His introduction to the world with this solitary tale of death by suicide shocked audiences and inspired a couple of fabulous Brits to later pen "A Day in the Life" as a musical nod to the King. Paul McCartney voted for this as the greatest rock song of all-time.<br /><br />7.&nbsp;<i>Blue Suede Shoes</i> (1/56) - Although Carl Perkins scored the big hit on the national charts with his original countrified version, Elvis amps up the tempo and fun in this wild rocker. Scotty Moore's lightning guitar breaks stand as some of the best he ever recorded.<br /><br />8.&nbsp;<i>My Baby Left Me</i> (1/56) - Another Arthur Crudup blues song turned into straight rock-n-roll with a rumbling drum intro by D.J. Fontana. Elvis rips through the vocals like a caged tiger hungry to be free.<br /><br />9.&nbsp;<i>Lawdy Miss Clawdy</i> (1/56) - Elvis' cover of Lloyd Price's rhythm and blues smash is both playful and taunting. This is the second song that inspired me to pick up the guitar, especially the '68 Comeback performance where Elvis pounds the guitar and roars the vocals in black leather reclaiming his rock-n-roll throne.<br /><br />10.&nbsp;<i>Hound Dog</i> (7/56) - Although Big Mama Thornton scored the original hit with her slower blues version, Elvis was inspired by a Las Vegas nightclub act who re-arranged the song into a powerful rocker. The most dynamic of his '50s live performances, this is the song that caused the uproar, forcing television cameras to shoot him from the waist up. Scotty Moore's lead guitar electrifies.<br /><br />11.&nbsp;<i>Don't Be Cruel</i> (7/56) - This straight-up rhythm and blues signifies a change in Elvis's musical career. Everything he'd released prior had been a melding of country and western with rhythm and blues into rock-n-roll (or rockabilly). This song buries Scotty Moore's guitar (except for that tuned down intro) under a delightful piano rhythm and supporting vocals by the Jordanaires. The first of many hits written for Elvis by musical genius Otis Blackwell. Issued as a double "a" side with "Hound Dog" and spent 11 weeks at #1 on the pop charts.<br /><br />12.&nbsp;<i>All Shook Up</i> (1/57) - This follow-up Blackwell-penned smash is equally catchy rhythm and blues with a softer guitar and dominant piano. Inspired Paul McCartney to write "She Loves You."<br /><br />13.&nbsp;<i>One Night</i> (2/57) - Elvis returns to full force playing lead guitar on this bluesy rocker. The modified lyrics downplay the sexuality but Elvis' performance does not. The third song that inspired me to pick up the guitar, especially his '68 Comeback performance.<br /><br />14.&nbsp;<i>Jailhouse Rock</i> (4/57) - Probably the most recognizable song of Elvis' career thanks to an early incarnation of the music video in the hit movie. The power chords and crashing drums elevate Elvis' raunchy vocals into the heaviest rock song of his career.<br /><br />15.&nbsp;<i>Stuck on You</i> (3/60) - Elvis hit big with this first post-army single thanks to an Otis Blackwell rhythm and blues number keeping in line with "Don't Be Cruel" and "All Shook Up." Elvis displays a maturity to his playfulness but remains able to unleash fury each time he belts the chorus.<br /><br />16.&nbsp;<i>It Feels So Right</i> (3/60) - This haunting blues appears on <i>Elvis Is Back</i>, his first and best album after his return from the army. Elvis drives the rhythm guitar in his classic style, letting loose with the vocals in a desperate cry for sexual consummation.<br /><br />17.&nbsp;<i>Like a Baby</i> (4/60) - Another bluesy rocker off <i>Elvis Is Back</i>, Elvis tears into the soulful lyrics with equal parts anger and defeat. The evocative background vocals by the Jordanaires echo Elvis' call of self-pity and misery.<br /><br />18.&nbsp;<i>Reconsider Baby</i> (4/60) - This best blues song of Elvis' career includes an incredible sax solo by Boots Randolph, the first on an Elvis record. The defiant sexual swagger of Elvis' vocals is highlighted by his pounding rhythm guitar and catcalls.<br /><br />19.&nbsp;<i>Little Sister</i> (6/61) - One of the few rockers by Elvis to feature distortion on lead guitar, played by country ax-man Hank Garland with grace and tornadic force. The catchy melody and youthful adoration make this one of the finest performances of Elvis' career.<br /><br />20.&nbsp;<i>His Latest Flame</i> (6/61) - A lighter rhythm and blues song in the spirit of Otis Blackwell's hits featuring a rockabilly Bo Diddley beat and softer, poignant vocals. Shared the double "a" side with "Little Sister" and soared up the charts on both sides of the Atlantic.<br /><br />21.&nbsp;<i>Devil in Disguise</i> (5/63) - Bright guitar licks and shifting tempos make this Elvis' most enjoyable hit right before the British Invasion. Elvis undersells the vocals on the verses only to hit with sheer bluster each time he roars through the chorus.<br /><br />22.&nbsp;<i>It Hurts Me</i> (1/64) - The best track cut while Elvis was lost in Hollywood. This power ballad co-written by Charlie Daniels gave Elvis the freedom to show off his maturing vocals and fight for the respect he'd lost in the industry.<br /><br />23.&nbsp;<i>Guitar Man/What I'd Say</i> (Uncut Master) (9/67) - One of the best stories of Elvis' recording career is how his entourage snatched country songwriter Jerry Reed off his fishing boat to replicate the cherry picking guitar riff heard on his demo for Elvis' take because the Nashville studio musicians couldn't nail it. This snappy travelogue about a wandering musician is Elvis' "Johnny B. Goode" and opens the door to his inevitable comeback from the nightmare that was Hollywood. Find the uncut version to hear Elvis launch into an improvised rendition of Ray Charles' "What'd I Say" with complete lack of restraint and total exhilaration.<br /><br />24.&nbsp;<i>Big Boss Man</i> (9/67) - Jerry Reed also plays lead guitar on this rocking blues hit that helps reinvent the rebellious Elvis for modern audiences. His raw, confident vocals are countered by a shrieking harmonica and sax. With a crisp and wild funk unknown to country music at the time, this precursor to what will eventually be known as Elvis' Nashville Sound is unlike anything else he recorded.<br /><br />25.&nbsp;<i>If I Can Dream</i> (6/68) - The best vocal performance of Elvis' entire career. Perhaps the most passionate one I've ever heard on record. Elvis sings for civil rights in one of only a handful of his politically charged anthems. Legend has it that he collapsed into the fetal position on the studio floor in tears after the master take. He'd finally escaped the shackles of Hollywood.<br /><br />26.&nbsp;<i>Wearin' That Loved on Look</i> (1/69) - This powerful rocker about betrayal opens <i>From Elvis in Memphis</i>, the second best album of his post-army career. Elvis' raw vocals are fueled by a funky lead guitar, both reckless and raunchy like the rock-n-roll of his youth.<br /><br />27.&nbsp;<i>In the Ghetto</i> (1/69) - Another political song, this time from the famed Memphis sessions with Chips Moman at the helm of the American Sound Studios. Give the undubbed version a listen to hear how beautiful the rhythm guitar sounds accompanying Elvis' tender, yet dramatic, vocals. A poignant saga at a volatile time in our nation's history.<br /><br />28.&nbsp;<i>Suspicious Minds</i> (1/69) - Elvis returned to the top of the pop charts for the first time in seven years with this modern rock song about mistrust between lovers. Elvis fuses rock, country, and rhythm and blues into his own brand of soul. Definitely the best of his non-'50s songs, this became the centerpiece of his live show for the remainder of his career. Check out his legendary performance in the rockumentary <i>Elvis That's the Way It Is</i>.<br /><br />29.&nbsp;<i>Stranger in My Own Hometown</i> (2/69) - Supported by legendary studio guitarist Reggie Young, Elvis launches into this inspirational blues number about a hero who's lost his way. The relentless chorus and self-deprecating humor highlight Elvis' awareness of how he disappeared from the music scene while making disappointing trash in Hollywood.<br /><br />30.&nbsp;<i>Power of My Love</i> (2/69) - Another excellent cut from the American Sound Studios, Elvis's sexual vocal abandon is equalled by more powerful bluesy guitar by Reggie Young. Elvis' vocals on this underrated modern rock hit are energized and impassioned.<br /><br />31.&nbsp;<i>Kentucky Rain</i> (2/69) - The final song from the American Sound Studios to make my cut, Elvis takes this Eddie Rabbit-penned country song into new territory as a soulful rocker with dramatic tempo shifts and a pounding piano by then unknown Ronnie Milsap.<br /><br />32.&nbsp;<i>Polk Salad Annie</i> (Live) (2/70) - The best live rock song of Elvis' career. I prefer the <i>Elvis That's the Way It Is </i>version for its earth-shaking false ending and outro, but the infectious bass romp in Madison Square Garden makes for raucous and compelling soul as only Elvis can deliver.<br /><br />33.&nbsp;<i>An American Trilogy</i> (Live) (2/72) - The third political entry in my list, this medley of spiritual songs reflect how Elvis embraced America with all its glory and imperfections. His vocals soar to operatic heights as they often did in the '70s. The dramatic orchestration and powerful momentum shifts make this Elvis' unmatched showstopper.<br /><br />34.&nbsp;<i>Separate Ways</i> (3/72) - The mournful longing of Elvis' vocals and melodic lead piano accent the most mature offering of Elvis' latter career. With divorce looming, Elvis reaches out to his beloved wife and innocent child in a chilling ballad of loss and despair.<br /><br />35.&nbsp;<i>Burning Love</i> (3/72) - One of his last rockers. Possibly his best. A throwback to the '50s infused with chord changes inspired by Creedence Clearwater Revival. The churning guitar riff and swampy Southern-rock catapult Elvis' soulful vocals into a passionate hymn.<br /><br />36<i>. Always on My Mind</i> (Alternate Master) (3/72) - Issued as a double "a" side with "Separate Ways," another solitary ballad co-written for Elvis by "Suspicious Minds" creator Mark James. The alternate master is hard to locate but worth a listen for Ronnie Tutt's rolling drum breaks.<br /><br />37.&nbsp;<i>My Boy</i> (12/73) - An overlooked gem from his '70s catalog, this evocative tale of caution and doubt offers tempo shifts unique to many of Elvis' most endearing adult ballads. Recorded at the famous Stax Studios in Memphis, Elvis reaches a new pinnacle of country and soul with this tearjerker.<br /><br />38.&nbsp;<i>Promised Land</i> (12/73) - Elvis wouldn't cover a song if he couldn't add to the original, and he doesn't disappoint with this Chuck Berry rock-n-roll masterpiece. James Burton's leads are the best of his tenure with Elvis. The song drives wild into rhythmic frenzy with thumping bass, heavy drums, and striking piano. Also cut at Stax, Elvis rarely had as much fun rocking out this late in his career.<br /><br />39.&nbsp;<i>For the Heart</i> (2/76) - Dennis Linde, writer of "Burning Love," penned this inspired country tune for Elvis who recorded it as part of his famed Jungle Room sessions in the den at Graceland. If you listen to the countless alternate takes, you'll see how much fun Elvis had with songs he admired despite the addiction and despair that ravaged his final years. A vigorous rocker with swinging background vocals provided by gospel quartet, J.D. Sumner and the Stamps.<br /><br />40.&nbsp;<i>Way Down</i> (10/76) - This final hit during Elvis' lifetime is beyond magical. Elvis ratchets up the energy in what becomes almost a remake of "Burning Love" in style and passion. J.D. Sumner again hits those famous low notes as Elvis finds his love and passion in unrivaled soulful depths.<br /><br />Bonus Track<br /><i>A Little Less Conversation</i> (JXL Remix) (2002/Original Recording 6/68) - This incredible remix launched Elvis into the 21st century after appearing in a commercial during the World Cup and in the box office smash <i>Ocean's 11</i>. The groovy guitar and gritty vocals trace back to the '68 Comeback Special, and JXL compliments Elvis with a bright energy and timeless sound for a new generation of music lovers.<br /><br />This list was next to impossible to create. Elvis gave us so much to choose from. I didn't pick many ballads because I think the rockers belong. Elvis was the King of Rock-n-Roll for a reason. Many people forget, or choose to ignore, that fact.<br /><br />So many things have been said about Elvis, but my favorite quote comes from John Lennon (I'm paraphrasing slightly here): "Elvis was my religion."<br /><br />I still believe in him. Hope you find something worth listening to. Hope the world continues to do so long after we've all left the building.Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-52635334644257818932017-06-17T09:56:00.001-07:002017-06-17T09:59:34.779-07:00Why I Love Wonder Woman<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pAIr5H-DRuo/WUVSGOnzzOI/AAAAAAAAAt8/kwX6ybeicJMM2WspxGU5QeFyvQ77UhBEACLcBGAs/s1600/Wonder_Woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1154" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pAIr5H-DRuo/WUVSGOnzzOI/AAAAAAAAAt8/kwX6ybeicJMM2WspxGU5QeFyvQ77UhBEACLcBGAs/s320/Wonder_Woman.jpg" width="230" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Because she kicks ass.<br /><br />Because she has integrity.<br /><br />Because she loves.<br /><br />Because of her innocence.<br /><br />Because she makes me smile.<br /><br />Because I never thought for a single moment that she couldn't accomplish what she set out to do.<br /><br />Because I believe in heroes.<br /><br />Because I enjoyed watching her kick the shit out of the bad guys.<br /><br />Because I never questioned whether or not she could do it.<br /><br />Because she was a role model for my wife when Lynda Carter created the role.<br /><br />Because Gal Gadot is one for my daughter now.<br /><br />Because Gal Gadot was five months pregnant when she filmed the movie. (Are you fucking kidding me!)<br /><br />Because of all the posts I've seen on social media, especially by my former female students, praising her greatness.<br /><br />Because she inspires.<br /><br />Because she empowers.<br /><br />Because she listens.<br /><br />Because she's a fierce warrior.<br /><br />Because she takes all the fire for the soldiers at they cross No-Man's Land during the siege of Veld.<br /><br />Because she's the God Killer.<br /><br />Because she brings hope to the current DC Comics Cinematic Universe, which sucks without her. (Where are you Christopher Reeve and Michael Keaton?)<br /><br />Because of how she sees snow for the first time.<br /><br />Because "Really, specs? And suddenly she's not the most beautiful woman you've ever seen?"<br /><br />Because she believes in us.<br /><br />Because our world needs her.Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-1720280889188090572016-10-25T11:53:00.000-07:002016-10-25T18:35:19.567-07:00Drago Goes to the Movies or How I Learned to Love Writing Horror Stories (Pt. 1)<div style="text-align: center;"><h2 style="text-align: center;">Why I Write Horror (Pt. 1)</h2><div style="text-align: left;">This is the first in a series of entries about what inspired me to write horror stories. I've started with movies as they've always been an integral part of who I am as an artist. My first ambition was to be a filmmaker. As children, my younger brother and I would spend hours pretending our bedroom was a movie studio. We'd develop scripts and act at our stories as if the cameras were rolling. Those are some of the finest memories I have of my childhood. You'll notice a concentration of movies in the early 80s. This is when I first started writing with intent and absorbed everything I could as an artist. I kept this list to ten. It isn't intended to be a reckoning of the scariest or the best horror movies ever made. Not even close. It's only a compilation of what influenced me at various moments in my life.</div><b><br /></b><b>Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948)</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sdWuYy_8Otk/WAupYkEQXvI/AAAAAAAAAqk/xHYvH9rVO0EWnSJb-0gUv8u5iflH7OyvwCLcB/s1600/220px-A%2526cfrank.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sdWuYy_8Otk/WAupYkEQXvI/AAAAAAAAAqk/xHYvH9rVO0EWnSJb-0gUv8u5iflH7OyvwCLcB/s320/220px-A%2526cfrank.jpg" width="211" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">The first of a handful of scary movies I watched on Saturday mornings while growing up in NYC. This film was really my first introduction to the classics: Dracula, Frankenstein, the Wolf Man. It might surprise you to know that the character who resonated with me the most at the time was the Wolf Man. Lon Chaney Jr.'s portrayal of a disconsolate, misunderstood villain incited my early interest in monsters and my portrait of compassion for those less fortunate. He's the reason I give my heroes flaws. We're compelled to shoulder those who are imperfect.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>The Blob (1958)</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l--oSMdJmgY/WAupc64yIpI/AAAAAAAAArA/LblBKwWdpb4I5aw_V60dhWYUrJeXFFZyQCEw/s1600/The-Blob-1958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l--oSMdJmgY/WAupc64yIpI/AAAAAAAAArA/LblBKwWdpb4I5aw_V60dhWYUrJeXFFZyQCEw/s320/The-Blob-1958.jpg" width="169" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Clearly, no movie has ever frightened me more in my entire life than <i>The Blob</i>. I shudder even now when I picture that mournful old man digging around in the molten meteor as the film opens. The power to consume is frightening. I have a dread of being eaten alive. Many of the villains I create in my stories are the Blob, often in human form. &nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster (1972)</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wI1TGL-V9f4/WAupYn4ZrrI/AAAAAAAAAqs/_9nOCfDidukAew3_wDfO9dD6pHJhY90WgCEw/s1600/5354832036_bbcaab4cb6_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wI1TGL-V9f4/WAupYn4ZrrI/AAAAAAAAAqs/_9nOCfDidukAew3_wDfO9dD6pHJhY90WgCEw/s320/5354832036_bbcaab4cb6_b.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">My horror stories include their fair share of science fiction. Godzilla as a metaphor for nuclear destruction; the Smog Monster as the embodiment of human corruption and waste. Even as a child I understood these concepts. They scared the shit out of me. Still do. I love cheering for monsters. Godzilla was my ultimate childhood hero.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>The Shining (1980)</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1By6K5QKLOc/WA0MNYLF7FI/AAAAAAAAAro/NmkyWy4nuV0Zw_C_IiN_AEN8dqUiZLfdgCLcB/s1600/the-shining-poster1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1By6K5QKLOc/WA0MNYLF7FI/AAAAAAAAAro/NmkyWy4nuV0Zw_C_IiN_AEN8dqUiZLfdgCLcB/s320/the-shining-poster1.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">The first horror movie that gave me pause as an artist. This was before I read the novel. I now understand the film to be something completely different than what Stephen King wrote. Stanley Kubrick used only the title of the source material and the character names. Nothing else is the same. I love both. I watched this movie dozens of times on bootlegged HBO and VHS. It made me start thinking about how characters evolve, interact. The vulnerability of children. The destructive force of humanity. The power of love and thought. I embrace all these themes in my writing. It forced me to understand how films tell stories with camera shots and editing. After seeing this movie, I wanted that authorship and control.</div><b><br /></b><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>An American Werewolf in London (1981)</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TSehpNuOuQ8/WA0L2bwbHOI/AAAAAAAAArk/til1wYnSgJgfyi1AfFmseohrlE62RgrDACLcB/s1600/american_werewolf_in_london.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TSehpNuOuQ8/WA0L2bwbHOI/AAAAAAAAArk/til1wYnSgJgfyi1AfFmseohrlE62RgrDACLcB/s320/american_werewolf_in_london.jpg" width="207" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Another film watched endlessly on HBO and VHS. Looking back, the movie reminds me more of <i>Dracula</i> than anything else. The mystery of the moor, the insidious locals, the haunting zombies, the graphic violence all quenched my thirst for everything graphic. I appreciated the understated humor. The special effects and rhythmic chords of "Bad Moon Rising" during the initial transformation sequence were enough to captivate my youthful vigor.&nbsp;&nbsp;A big influence on the early horror stories I crafted with pen and paper in my bedroom after dark.</div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Silent Rage (1982)</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5-qtigXZN6E/WAupcwBv90I/AAAAAAAAArE/fCglpAgtWsgilz1S4VvYcX5AQ7G27huzwCEw/s1600/Silent_rage_poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5-qtigXZN6E/WAupcwBv90I/AAAAAAAAArE/fCglpAgtWsgilz1S4VvYcX5AQ7G27huzwCEw/s320/Silent_rage_poster.jpg" width="204" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">This critical and box office failure retells the Frankenstein story. I loved it. I often wonder if my Sheriff Brad Gleason is the reincarnation of this Chuck Norris character, but without the martial arts expertise. I'm often impressed with the subtle presence of science fiction in horror. The medical lab and genetic modifications are in <i>Queensboro</i>. Like the Wolf Man, I have pity on the monster, a mentally ill patient who violently murders members of his family. I appreciate how the film blurs the lines of good and evil and punches home the notion that evil can never be stopped. It's why I enjoy placing cliffhangers at the ends of chapters and entire novels.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Poltergeist (1982)</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4rArI-rSEkE/WAupc7rgoPI/AAAAAAAAArI/j1TXh8d_zmkyZf65TwS8FnqGuuu2G03swCEw/s1600/poltergeist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4rArI-rSEkE/WAupc7rgoPI/AAAAAAAAArI/j1TXh8d_zmkyZf65TwS8FnqGuuu2G03swCEw/s320/poltergeist.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Probably my all-time favorite horror movie. Spielberg doesn't get credit for directing, but his signature's all over this nail-biter. My mom lost a baby girl a few short months after this release. In some ways, I always connected her loss with the little girl who gets taken in <i>Poltergeist</i> and equated the terror and heartfelt anger of JoBeth Williams with all the pain my mom endured. This film infuses everything I've ever written.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>The Fly (1986)</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OSx5JQJHefk/WAupZ2ckQYI/AAAAAAAAAq4/KUMjgIFTeLc4k6obr-JLD5JOdlerOm6kQCEw/s1600/fly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OSx5JQJHefk/WAupZ2ckQYI/AAAAAAAAAq4/KUMjgIFTeLc4k6obr-JLD5JOdlerOm6kQCEw/s320/fly.jpg" width="202" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Jeff Goldblum's best role. My heart breaks for him when that little fly gets caught in the pod. His decay and futile attempts to resist the transformation only serve to increase my empathy. By this time, I was reading and writing horror at a rate I've never equalled. <i>The Fly</i> fed my appetite for the grotesque while massaging my compassion for the diseased. The special effects of Brundlefly impress me even today. The tagline "Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid." could be the best ever.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Event Horizon (1997)</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xdd4uXSklQg/WAupZ-WiM4I/AAAAAAAAAq0/pfKGfORtIqYgM04d9wnmzMMDX1ZMk0dXACEw/s1600/event_horizon_ver1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xdd4uXSklQg/WAupZ-WiM4I/AAAAAAAAAq0/pfKGfORtIqYgM04d9wnmzMMDX1ZMk0dXACEw/s320/event_horizon_ver1.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">After a lull in writing once I graduated college, I had a short run publishing short stories again in the late 90s. This film reinvigorated my passion for horror while feeding my literary stroke for more science fiction. The mysteries of the universe and the isolation of deep space create an intriguing landscape for this disturbing film and my creative output. I visit its domain in my latest novel <i>Winter</i> where villain Amanda Simmons attempts to build a bridge through space-time and across parallel dimensions.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Super 8 (2011)</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rh9Q-a1RwC8/WAupdWOkITI/AAAAAAAAArM/wHpNAzNgdQsypdc34eQYE8elGruka__swCEw/s1600/super-8-movie-poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rh9Q-a1RwC8/WAupdWOkITI/AAAAAAAAArM/wHpNAzNgdQsypdc34eQYE8elGruka__swCEw/s320/super-8-movie-poster.jpg" width="216" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">This movie was <i>Stranger Things</i> before <i>Stranger Things</i> ever happened. It re-awakened my soul to everything I did and wrote while growing up at the dawn of the 80s. <i>Super 8</i> is directly responsible for my Crow Creek series. The film explores the relationship between father and son and exposes the challenges of dealing with loss. I watched not only with a nostalgic yearning for my childhood but also with the hope and longing for what the future held for my writing. Since its release, I've written five novels, six short stories, and two plays. The second most prolific run of my career.</div></div>Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-47720076717788772932016-10-19T11:54:00.000-07:002016-10-19T11:54:08.782-07:00Winter Images<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Winter-Crow-Creek-Novel-3/dp/069278280X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1476887720&amp;sr=8-1&amp;keywords=winter+thomas+drago" target="_blank">Winter</a></i>&nbsp;is here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I thought it would be cool to compile a few images I found online that reflect what my new novel <i>Winter</i> is about and/or where I got my ideas. My friend, author Chad Kultgen, told me it shouldn't matter how many books I sell because the worlds I create still exist. I hope you love the <a href="http://www.tsdrago.com/winter/" target="_blank">Crow Creek</a> universe as much as I do. I've been on this journey for three years now. There will always be more stories here. These photos are in no particular order.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Mushroom Cloud</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-90LQHqoUzPs/WAayzR1oi2I/AAAAAAAAApU/P2t2mJw3gwoKeg_5lIsuNFCb8l28FO7lACLcB/s1600/mushroom%2Bcloud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-90LQHqoUzPs/WAayzR1oi2I/AAAAAAAAApU/P2t2mJw3gwoKeg_5lIsuNFCb8l28FO7lACLcB/s320/mushroom%2Bcloud.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I'm fascinated with nuclear bombs. The atomic bomb drills we had when I was a kid growing up in NYC left an impression. So did those film strips that showed the nuclear tests. My favorite part in Indiana Jones 4 is when the bomb erupts at the beginning (and yes, he hides in the refrigerator, who the fuck cares?). I love that shit. There's something monumental about destruction. Maybe that's why The Trashcan Man seems so fucking bad-ass in Stephen King's epic novel&nbsp;<i>The Stand</i>. I loved Ozzy's <i>Ultimate Sin</i> album. "Thank God for the Bomb." <i>Winter</i> starts with nuclear bombs. I based them on what happened in Goldsboro, NC, in the early 60s.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Solar Flare</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f3ka699Ig2U/WAazAo9GTPI/AAAAAAAAApY/Zu_ctZCZaaguLvdBlDmirTLakmDCfGipwCLcB/s1600/sun-pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f3ka699Ig2U/WAazAo9GTPI/AAAAAAAAApY/Zu_ctZCZaaguLvdBlDmirTLakmDCfGipwCLcB/s320/sun-pic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />The power of the universe is mind-blowing. I'm sad when I don't see the sun. Our dependency on our home star is something none of us really thinks about. I do. Every day. How incredible would it be to harness that power? So, of course, I did. And I put it in the hands of the most despicable of villains, Amanda Simmons. Remember her? If not, you need to brush up on your <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Queensboro-Crow-Creek-Thomas-Drago/dp/0692411275/ref=sr_1_1_twi_pap_2?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1476888415&amp;sr=8-1&amp;keywords=queensboro" target="_blank">Queensboro</a></i>. She screwed over the Red Queen and toppled Entech. Even though Sheriff Brad and his band of heroes think they did. We know better. In <i>Winter</i>, she sets off a Solar Pulse that fucks up everything.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Bags of Blood</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aYNPi2Tg_H8/WAazFGDjAPI/AAAAAAAAApk/CgjrVdS4YMsN6bVwdejoNiE8A2NgZc4ogCLcB/s1600/blood_plasma_bag_label.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aYNPi2Tg_H8/WAazFGDjAPI/AAAAAAAAApk/CgjrVdS4YMsN6bVwdejoNiE8A2NgZc4ogCLcB/s320/blood_plasma_bag_label.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />When I wrote <i>Queensboro</i>, I wanted to include vampires. My last name is Drago, for fuck's sake. Yes, we share something with Dracula. It might only be our family crest, who knows? Could be more. But it's not nothing. I also knew I didn't want to recreate anything that's already been done. Bram Stoker's original novel, <i>'Salem's Lot</i>, Robert McCammon's <i>They Thirst</i>. That's about all we really need for vampire tales, right? So I tied my blood drainers into a social commentary about the health care industry and hooked everyone on a drug that's fueled by blood. That shit comes back in <i>Winter</i>.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Zombie Hands</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a4pZqch9UBc/WAazHs0TfgI/AAAAAAAAApo/amaSVNwWUOw5nRURZEd2siLAReTK2dcEgCLcB/s1600/zombie%2Bhands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a4pZqch9UBc/WAazHs0TfgI/AAAAAAAAApo/amaSVNwWUOw5nRURZEd2siLAReTK2dcEgCLcB/s320/zombie%2Bhands.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />As a horror writer, I'd be stupid if I didn't throw myself into the zombie scene. Flesh eaters are fun no matter how you look at them. <i>Shaun of the Dead</i> is my favorite zombie film. I kinda feel like <i>The Walking Dead</i> has jumped the shark, but we'll see what Negan has to offer this season (I love Jeffrey Dean Morgan from his <i>Supernatural</i> days). Like my vampires, my zombies are also original. They're a sick side effect of Amanda Simmons' solar mayhem in <i>Winter</i>. <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Dragons</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q9-6zTc5Clg/WAazKhntmQI/AAAAAAAAAps/ddAQn7kfLbkfUG8UKLMiXeHAFKS1PxGxgCLcB/s1600/Dragon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q9-6zTc5Clg/WAazKhntmQI/AAAAAAAAAps/ddAQn7kfLbkfUG8UKLMiXeHAFKS1PxGxgCLcB/s320/Dragon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Crow-Creek-Thomas-Drago/dp/0615982662/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&amp;qid=1476889090&amp;sr=8-1" target="_blank">Crow Creek</a></i>. Pastor Aken. The <i>Cavalli</i>. Need I say more? If you have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about, how did you make it to <i>Winter</i>?&nbsp;You should start at the beginning of the series!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Lightning</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZrPwqMAbYus/WAazM2qlwKI/AAAAAAAAApw/njawi6VUu2YX3FORUSmsG3SmkD54r7q0QCLcB/s1600/Lightning_strike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZrPwqMAbYus/WAazM2qlwKI/AAAAAAAAApw/njawi6VUu2YX3FORUSmsG3SmkD54r7q0QCLcB/s320/Lightning_strike.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I'm deathly afraid of lightning. It's my biggest phobia. During a thunderstorm, I'll hide from windows. I'm not proud. Just look at the fucking picture. Compare it to the trees. It gives incredible perspective. In <i>Winter</i>, you'll meet Frank Edwards (no relation to the senator from Chapel Hill who fucked around behind his dying wife's back). He's a truck driver struck by lightning while out on the road. He's away from home when the Solar Pulse hits. He's left his wife alone. She's a former Entech employee dying from <i>ecGen2</i> withdrawal (that's the Red Queen's drug, but if you're with me this far, you know that!). Not good. Frank soon learns "lightnin gits you once, usually gits you again."<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>JFK</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PtWQ-rO-1CQ/WAazRK5BxQI/AAAAAAAAAp0/9Lph3pGw60M3o-UFwRL6TST0PUFrH38lgCLcB/s1600/JFK.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PtWQ-rO-1CQ/WAazRK5BxQI/AAAAAAAAAp0/9Lph3pGw60M3o-UFwRL6TST0PUFrH38lgCLcB/s320/JFK.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Politicians piss me off. JFK's no exception. The idea that a single family could hold power in America for generations is bullshit. We should also have term limits on all elected officials and judges (when not elected). That's your rigged system right there. Anyhow, those nuclear bombs dropped at the beginning of <i>Winter</i> are meant for JFK. Things don't go as planned, so the bombs make a comeback in the current day.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Maggots</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IdUDrcLFA_Y/WAazcgJQjrI/AAAAAAAAAp8/QWLvVqkSe94i7OnPjUlR37WSiEZ481PsQCLcB/s1600/maggots%2Bin%2Beye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="271" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IdUDrcLFA_Y/WAazcgJQjrI/AAAAAAAAAp8/QWLvVqkSe94i7OnPjUlR37WSiEZ481PsQCLcB/s320/maggots%2Bin%2Beye.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Like my idol Stephen King, I'll go for the gross out when I need to. In <i>Queensboro</i>, you could tell folks were hooked on the Red Queen's death drug if they had maggots squirming under their skin. Kind of how flies are a precursor to dragons in <i>Crow Creek</i>. Both the maggots and the flies return in <i>Winter</i>. Keeps you on the lookout for the monsters they portend.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Big Ugly Fat Fucker</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mBTDHn3stfg/WAa0T5SAzGI/AAAAAAAAAqE/YT7_Z5iMWNAYfRo2QoI3d6Z39PMt977JgCEw/s1600/best-bombers-intro-.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mBTDHn3stfg/WAa0T5SAzGI/AAAAAAAAAqE/YT7_Z5iMWNAYfRo2QoI3d6Z39PMt977JgCEw/s320/best-bombers-intro-.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />The B-52 Stratofortress that dropped the nuclear bombs over Winter, NC (and Goldsboro). Sometimes, nature isn't the only thing to impress. Look at that fucking machine. Human beings are quite remarkable when they wanna be.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Rootwork</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-df5Umnv0MFs/WAazcgtwrxI/AAAAAAAAAp4/Ziil4KUdwjo5RPaDb07Ys5TuduB7LfENACEw/s1600/mojo_rootwork.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-df5Umnv0MFs/WAazcgtwrxI/AAAAAAAAAp4/Ziil4KUdwjo5RPaDb07Ys5TuduB7LfENACEw/s320/mojo_rootwork.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Crow Creek wouldn't be Crow Creek without Black Jesus. He meets up with Sheriff Brad's wife Shana and together they fight zombies and hunt dragons while attempting to save the world from Amanda Simmons. Their narrative line could be my favorite of all that happens in <i>Winter</i>. It's definitely the most action-packed. I can't remember a time as an author when I've loved a character more than Black Jesus. He's also a fan favorite.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>1949 Ford</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CuXjsvD1_4o/WAazFL2qF2I/AAAAAAAAApc/KHetMG083q8zn8SbtMpmjYatHzCP6PiSACEw/s1600/49%2BFord%2BTruck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CuXjsvD1_4o/WAazFL2qF2I/AAAAAAAAApc/KHetMG083q8zn8SbtMpmjYatHzCP6PiSACEw/s320/49%2BFord%2BTruck.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Black Jesus has an ancestor who survives the nuclear bomb detonations. His name's Roosevelt Goods. He's a farmer (and part-time trucker) who befriends Frank Edwards after the lightning strike. There's plenty of Stephen King influence in this character and plot line. I don't want to spoil the story, but Rosie's 1949 Ford factors prominently in the telling. Sometimes they come back.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>The Black Cat Trail</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YPQITcV91hI/WAazFCP75pI/AAAAAAAAApg/XZAwiyk9f-4Zp2kbEYqVafm98rKZqHWNACEw/s1600/Black-cat-black-cats-cat-cat-claws-cat-paw-Favim.com-242281.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YPQITcV91hI/WAazFCP75pI/AAAAAAAAApg/XZAwiyk9f-4Zp2kbEYqVafm98rKZqHWNACEw/s320/Black-cat-black-cats-cat-cat-claws-cat-paw-Favim.com-242281.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I love playing, singing, and listening to blues music, so I wanted to give <i>Winter</i> some soul. I researched NC musicians and found out about Carolina Slim. After the bombs fall, Rosie's old pickup truck will only play Carolina Slim's song, "The Black Cat Trail." I needed an omen and his lyrics didn't disappoint. I avoid black cats like lightning. I suggest you do the same.Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-41981605689187919602016-09-29T07:17:00.001-07:002016-09-29T07:17:45.466-07:00Winter - Chapter One<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:DoNotShowRevisions/> <w:DoNotPrintRevisions/> <w:DoNotShowMarkup/> <w:DoNotShowComments/> <w:DoNotShowInsertionsAndDeletions/> <w:DoNotShowPropertyChanges/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> 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Name="TOC Heading"/> </w:LatentStyles></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]><style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style><![endif]--> <br /><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QVJtpCNMb8w/V-0hYquMU6I/AAAAAAAAAoc/1TCvp1WL6mIcyDmLCGDlk7OCw2hdHPKlACLcB/s1600/blood_spatter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QVJtpCNMb8w/V-0hYquMU6I/AAAAAAAAAoc/1TCvp1WL6mIcyDmLCGDlk7OCw2hdHPKlACLcB/s320/blood_spatter.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , sans-serif;"><i>Here's an excerpt from my upcoming horror novel, </i>Winter<i>. </i>Winter<i> is the third book in my Crow Creek series and will be published through Gold Avenue Press in October.&nbsp;</i></span><i style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif;">Preorders are &nbsp;now available on my website at <a href="http://www.tsdrago.com/winter/" target="_blank">www.tsdrago.com/winter/</a>&nbsp;for only $10 with free shipping. Thank you!</i><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Saturday, September 17, 1960</span></b><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"></span></div><div align="center" class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Pastor Aken dragged the limp teenager out of the passenger seat of his blood-red Chevy Corvair. She didn’t make a sound. Her smoky eyes fluttered, but she kept quiet. </span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It was after midnight. He’d kept Bishop Lundby waiting for over two hours. The girl had been difficult to snatch. Not because she’d struggled. She’d stayed with her boyfriend in Braxton Park longer than her parents might’ve wanted, had they known of her whereabouts. But that didn’t matter. The pastor had considered interrupting their tryst and slitting the boyfriend’s throat (he despised his oily hair and faded motorcycle jacket) but didn’t. They’d need someone to blame for her disappearance.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The early-morning sliver of moon glimmered as he traveled with her across the empty parking lot. He glanced at a toppled oak tree. Several thick branches rested against the roof of the church, peeling away the weathered shingles. Muddy leaves tap-danced against the siding in the cool breeze. There were a dozen broken windows, and the gutters had partially dislodged. The remnants of Hurricane Donna.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Pastor Aken hated the bishop. Despised his entire congregation and Mount Olive Church. Would burn each and every member alive if he didn’t have to follow protocol. He’d spent the entire ride to Chasm County digging his fingernails into the steering wheel and talking himself out of driving back to Crow Creek. He could’ve finished the job in the root cellar under First Baptist. No one ever went down there. The place was dark and musty. Put a lock on the door, and they’d have no idea. He could’ve been fast asleep by now and dreaming of his own family, not satisfying someone else’s needs. </span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He had his sights on Pattie Lynn Briggs, Jake Riddle’s wife. She was just fine. Flowing red hair. Crystal blue eyes. Skin as fair as fresh snow. His chiseled Native American jawline and her Yorkshire complexion would produce bold, handsome progeny. And if her firefighter husband somehow died in the line of duty, all the better for the pastor and Crow Creek. Folks needed a little prodding now and again.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The languid girl winced. He’d yanked on her blonde hair without realizing, curling the locks into his fist.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>“Just a while longer,” he told her. </span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She sighed but seemed comforted. He was confident she and her boyfriend had consumed enough Old Fitzgerald to put all of Holt County to sleep. Her father managed the flat yard in Queensboro for Southern Railways and probably had no idea she’d been nipping his supply. The freight companies knew how to grease their engineers, especially with Southern bourbon, and the softer taste of Old Fitzgerald had the local teenagers scrounging to imbibe. The pastor understood. Sneak off with a bottle of sour mash from your old man’s liquor cabinet, pocket a pack of Lucky Strikes from the corner store at Ninth and Mill—what juvenile could resist such carnal paradise? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>Partly why he loved his own church as much as he did. Something about the company of sinners.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He wrenched her up the short set of wooden steps at the rear of the church. The doorway was unlit. Not surprising. Bishop Lundby dwelled in darkness. Pastor Aken preferred the spotlight. The perfect metaphor for their contrast. With any luck, this fourth and final girl would complete the bishop’s cycle, and the pastor would earn the right to sire his own flock and never return to Winter again. He’d serviced the state elders for more than a century, biding his time. His devotion had even included a murder of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cavalli</i> (an ancient order of knights) during World War II. While presiding over the Baptist church at Fort Bragg, he hunted the high-ranking officers until he’d located the right one. Flat-topped bastard never saw him coming. Drove the penknife squarely into his temple while he slept in his barracks. Didn’t spill a drop of blood.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Pastor Aken knocked. The door rattled on its hinges and squeaked open. A business of flies hovered about the musty sanctuary. The pastor swatted at them with his free hand. </span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The man slouching in the shadows wasn’t Bishop Lundby.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“McCrory?” the pastor shouted. “What the fuck are you doing here?”</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The hunched furniture salesman licked his lips and pushed wire-rimmed glasses up the slope of his greasy nose. The pastor heard the crooked man sucking on candy. The scent of peppermint wafted in the humid air between them.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Lundby told me you’d be coming.” His eyes widened. “With a girl.”</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Pastor Aken stepped in front of the subdued teenager and shoved McCrory inside the church. He released the blonde’s hair and grabbed her wrists as he hurried inside with her and closed the door.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The church was almost too dark. Too quiet. Pastor Aken kept his eyes on McCrory. He knew the runt wouldn’t hesitate to snatch the girl if the pastor dropped his guard even for a moment. Not because he would ever take a meal from the bishop. That was out of the question. He’d do things that were worse. <i>Dirty things.</i></span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“She’s special,” McCrory hissed. “I can smell her from here.”</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Pastor Aken puffed his chest. “Where’s Lundby?”</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Can I have her for a moment?” McCrory slid into a wooden pew and raised both palms, wheezing softly in the darkness and ignoring the pastor’s question. “I just wanna take off her shoes and sniff her feet. That’s all. I promise. Nothing more.”</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The massive oak tree slapped the outside of the church, knocking loose a few window slivers. Pastor Aken jumped and narrowed his eyes.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I’ll only ask you this one more time, McCrory. Where’s the bishop?”</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">McCrory dropped his shoulders.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“William Blount Air Force Base.”</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The pastor scratched his pointy chin and waved slender fingertips at a fly buzzing his ear. “Near the coast?”</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">McCrory nodded. His eyes never left the slumping girl.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yes, Ethan. Bishop Lundby phoned my father’s shop yesterday and asked if I’d come wait for you. Keep an eye on your delivery till Monday. What was I supposed to say?”</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Pastor Aken flickered, his skin melting. Thick black scales flashed. For a moment, he felt his wings pull at his shoulder blades, threatening to erupt.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“He expects me to leave her with you all weekend? After all the work I did collecting her?”</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">McCrory’s response was more of a grunt than anything else.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Pastor Aken grabbed him by the throat. The hunched man squealed.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I owe your father, McCrory. He helped me with my first feed. He’s the only reason I don’t kill you right now. But, someday, after your father’s long gone, I’ll run Crow Creek. Then I’ll have you. You’ll slip up, and you’ll be mine. Mark my words.”</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The pastor withdrew, tossing McCrory to the hardwood floor in front of the rotting pew. The slimy man scrambled on his knees toward the feeble girl.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Her toes,” he begged. “Let me kiss them. Just once. Please! You have no idea how much I need—”</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Pastor Aken kicked McCrory as hard as he could across the jaw, slicing open his translucent skin with the sharp edge of a polished Italian loafer. The wretched creature bounced off the back of the wooden pew and collapsed to the worn floorboards in a puddle of his own drool.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“As much as I’m sure you’d love that opportunity,” Pastor Aken shouted, twirling on his heels, “I have other plans for her now.”</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And with that, he stormed toward the altar, towing the girl by his side. He thought she might’ve giggled but no longer cared. He would be finished with her directly. He was through playing second fiddle to the bishop. And to McCrory’s father. And to anyone else ignorant enough to get in his way. Crow Creek would be his now. And if the bishop wasn’t careful, so would Winter. The people needed him. Loved him. Wanted his leadership and spiritual guidance, especially at the start of a decade that promised to be as turbulent as any in recent memory.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He thought about the black hitchhiker who’d been lynched (misdirecting blame was easier with colored folks) on Route 119 after the last girl he’d collected for the bishop. Out near the new subdivision beside Braxton Lake. Since Martin Luther King’s appearance on the cover of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">TIME</i> magazine, radical white Southerners jumped at every chance to hunt, innocent or not. A recipe for disaster. The pastor imagined the horrors that would define the nation by the end of the 1960s and smiled.</span></div><div class="normal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">As he approached the altar, he scooped the girl in his arms and plopped her hard on top of the communion table. She stopped giggling and arched her back, dividing her pouty lips. Before she could speak, Pastor Aken drove his fingernails into her neck and tore open her throat. Blood sprayed the clean satin tablecloth. The girl tried to scream but only gurgled. She kicked her feet and tossed her arms, but the pastor snapped her neck with a quick flip of his wrists. She lay motionless. He ripped the lavender little-nothing dress away from her chest and opened his mouth, gnashing his teeth as he dipped into her ivory flesh.</span></div>Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-71437243317137504122016-09-21T07:18:00.000-07:002016-09-21T07:18:07.404-07:00Why I Wrote WinterLast summer, I wrote the rough draft of <i>Winter</i> in about 10 weeks. At that point in my career, I'd signed contracts with Samhain Publishing to release the first three books in the Crow Creek series over a period of eight months. I was excited and couldn't crank out the pages fast enough. The first draft wrapped shy of 90,000 words (I've since trimmed some 5,000 off the total). If you've followed my career at all, you know that my deal with Samhain fell to shit. They downsized their company, threatened to close their doors, announced their resurrection, threatened to close again, and I don't have any idea where they stand now. They reverted my rights, however; so I restored <i>Crow Creek</i> and <i>Queensboro</i> with Gold Avenue Press and await the release of <i>Winter</i>. I've been out of the author game for 18 months, so trying to regenerate interest in my work has proved daunting.<br /><br />Anyway, as the presidential election gained momentum last year, I watched the rise of the candidates and assumed Jeb Bush and Hillary Clinton would win the nominations. I thought for sure we'd see a rematch of the 1992 election, only with different family representatives and a bigger, crazier billionaire as the third-party candidate (sorry Ross Perot, but the Donald trumps you). Things didn't turn out exactly as I expected (what the fuck happened, Jeb?), but I think the novel's premise still holds water. I have concerns about the concept of an American royal family and political nepotism. The Kennedys are probably the most recent example of an elite American dynasty, so I knew when I drafted the book that I wanted to connect the Kennedys with the absurdity of the current presidential election and my fictional Crow Creek universe.<br /><br />Enter the Goldsboro bombs.<br /><br />For those not up to speed, two Mark 39 nuclear warheads were accidentally dropped in rural North Carolina in the early 1960s. They didn't detonate. I can't recall exactly why I remembered hearing about those, but at some point, I posed the question to myself, what if those two bombs had been a failed attempt to assassinate JFK a few years before the real hit in Dallas? Further research told me that JFK toured North Carolina during his 1960 run (the first candidate since George Washington to do so, by the way) against then incumbent Vice President Richard Nixon. How perfect! I tweaked a few dates, combined some events, created a fictional mastermind, and presto - I had my conspiracy: kill Kennedy. The bombs go off and wipe out the entire town of Winter (yes, I couldn't resist the <i>nuclear winter</i> play on words - I'm a smart ass, remember?), save one farmer and his pickup truck and lazy old hound dog. <br /><br />Flash forward fifty odd years and Amanda Simmons, the covert rascal who devastated the Red Queen in <i>Queensboro</i>, finds herself at the center of a new assassination attempt with her fingertips on the nuclear trigger. Sheriff Brad Gleason returns, so do his ex-wife Shana, shaman Black Jesus, my original breed of dragons, vampires, and zombies, familiar villains, new heroes, and plenty of jiggery-pokery to go around.<br /><br />I hope you have as much fun reading this one as I did writing it. The action is nonstop; the emotions, a rollercoaster ride; and the twists and turns exactly what I hope you'll want from my series. I don't think I'll ever leave Crow Creek, honestly. The people and places have become my friends and neighbors. I see them in my dreams. Well, they haunt my nightmares.<br /><br />If you'd like to read a couple of good books about the historical incidents, try <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Goldsboro-Broken-Arrow-January-Potential/dp/1483401324/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1474400332&amp;sr=8-1&amp;keywords=The+Goldsboro+Broken+Arrow+-+Second+Edition%3AThe+B-52+Crash+of+January+24%2C+1961%2C+and+Its+Potential+as+a+Tipping+Point+for+Nuclear+War" target="_blank">The Goldsboro Broken Arrow</a> and <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Kennedys-Carolina-Campaign-Images-America/dp/0738592943/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1474400386&amp;sr=8-1&amp;keywords=John+F.+Kennedy%27s+North+Carolina+Campaign+%28Images+of+America%29" target="_blank">John F. Kennedy's North Carolina Campaign</a>. They both helped me a great deal.Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-89439428438987425572016-09-14T10:21:00.000-07:002016-09-14T10:21:05.114-07:00How Will We Afford College?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zruo5EFaZko/V4J5LoCaNiI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/MaCchcH4luou1X6iSnM3CRfdLSsYHrGqgCLcB/s1600/graduation-cap-decoration-ideas-pinterest.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zruo5EFaZko/V4J5LoCaNiI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/MaCchcH4luou1X6iSnM3CRfdLSsYHrGqgCLcB/s320/graduation-cap-decoration-ideas-pinterest.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />My wife and I have no idea how we'll be able to afford to send our children to college. I imagine many parents have the same concern. Maybe a tuition fairy will reduce the costs or provide assistance? If not, we're fucked. Well, our children are.<br /><br />Before you start giving me bullshit like we should've saved more money or minimized our debt, you should know we've done both. We've put as much money away for our children's education as we could possibly afford since each was born. Their 529 plans haven't exactly yielded the best results, but the money remains nonetheless. It barely scratches the surface of what we'll owe. And except for the 3% interest on our 15-year home loan, we have no debt. Our credit score floats around 850. Actually, I think this hurts us. We might have a better chance of being awarded financial aid if our credit was in the toilet.<br /><br />Wanna tell me to work harder or earn more? Go fuck yourself. I've worked at least two jobs at the same time since I graduated high school 30 years ago. Work ethic isn't my problem, believe me. I have no more blood to drain or sweat to perspire. I've sacrificed more life as a working parent - missing ball games, recitals, etc. - than I ever should've. I could've seen my boy swing a bat or my girl kick a soccer ball; instead, I was teaching a class or running a rehearsal. Yes, we made the decision for my wife to be a stay-at-home mom. Should we be penalized for not wanting our children to be raised in daycare because that's the expected standard for our generation? I don't think so.<br /><br />Look, I have a master's degree. I've taught for 25 years. I'm about maxed out at what this backwards-ass state is willing to pay me to teach kids. You wanna know what that is? Just north of 50K. That's all. What a joke! How many professionals with a master's who've given 25 years to the same career are only making 50K annually? It's pure bullshit. Finished laughing at me? Hope you choked.<br /><br />Here's the kicker: my son's up first for college. He wants to go to film school at USC. He has good grades but doesn't play the "let's take as many advanced placement courses as possible so I can graduate at the top of my class" game. I hate that fucking game, as a teacher and as a parent. He takes the classes that mean something to his future. He's done the research to see exactly what courses a filmmaker needs. It's not AP Calculus, I assure you. I took that class in high school. Totally worthless.<br /><br />USC costs 67K each year for out-of-state tuition. Remember how much I earn? Still laughing? It gets better. My wife and I completed the Expected Family Contribution online calculator to determine how much money colleges will expect us to pay out-of-pocket when our first child attends. We filled out an application and provided information about our income and assets. It's a simple formula. They expect us to pay a little over 12K each year. Okay. I accept that. We can do that. I work more than one job, to be fair.<br /><br />But, wait a minute, USC costs 67K annually. Where does the rest of the money come from? I'm not a math teacher, but I think we'll need to come up with 55K each year. That's more than my base salary teaching high school! Will we get financial aid? I don't think we'll qualify. Not for that much. No way. And what about when my daughter goes to college? Guess what she wants to be? A plastic surgeon. Medical school! I don't even wanna think about those costs.<br /><br />Yeah, I'm pissed. You know what I've learned? Hard work only pays off if you pick a career the public respects and values. If not, better hope you're born into a rich family or qualify for some serious financial assistance. Otherwise, you're fucked. Well, your children are.Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-1819761353582064362016-08-04T07:54:00.000-07:002016-08-04T10:21:01.893-07:00Why Donald Trump's Running for President<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vQRWEgB7gOQ/V6NUny5tRzI/AAAAAAAAAlA/xsgkb_B_fyciFDiYodYP_p7Udgm-9xbAACLcB/s1600/donald-trump.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vQRWEgB7gOQ/V6NUny5tRzI/AAAAAAAAAlA/xsgkb_B_fyciFDiYodYP_p7Udgm-9xbAACLcB/s320/donald-trump.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />If you're expecting to hear my political views, I keep those to myself. So, you won't find out who I'm voting for here or why. I'm only telling you why I think Trump's put himself out there.<br /><br />You should also know I'm not a conspiracy theorist. Never have been. As proof, I offer this: I believe Oswald acted alone, I don't think the government is covering up anything in Roswell, and (sadly) I'm confident Elvis dropped dead on the toilet and isn't wandering around Kalamazoo, Michigan, right now eating fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches. There are other examples. We can argue about those later.<br /><br />Since the beginning, I've believed that Donald Trump entered the race to help Hillary Clinton get elected President. By <i>since the beginning</i>, I mean at least since he announced his candidacy in June 2015, but I could be convinced that this goes back to the 90s when Bill was fucking around with Monica. In my mind, here's how the conversation might've gone:<br /><br />Hillary: Okay, I'll put up with this bullshit now, but I get to be President someday.<br />Bill and the Political Powers That Be: You got it. Give us time.<br />Hillary: Take all you want.<br /><br />But forget that. I'm only screwing with you. I realize Hillary has an impressive résumé.<br /><br />Below are the points of my argument. Take them as you will.<br /><br />1. Trump's craziness prior to his nomination has only gotten worse since the convention made it official. Insulting parents of a dead soldier, kicking a baby out of his rally. The list goes on, right? Beyond lunacy. Okay, by itself, it offers little to no proof of my thesis, but his antics certainly haven't helped the GOP. And if he's not helping the Republicans, Hillary benefits. Every time.<br /><br />2. Three extremely popular billionaires have endorsed Hillary. Those are Mark Cuban, Mayor Bloomberg, and Warren Buffet. Again, absolutely no evidence here. Total conjecture. But if three billionaires can get together, why not four? It's an exclusive club. They know each other. They talk.<br /><br />3. Believe it or not, Trump and Hillary are friends. Their daughters are close friends. Trump used to be a Democrat. As recently as July 2015 he said he identifies more as a Democrat. He supported the Clintons. Political rival Jeb Bush tweeted this theory last December!<br /><br />4. Trump didn't release his first campaign ad until last week! Last week! That's unreal. Hillary's run over 30,000 of them! If he's not helping her, he's making very little effort to win. Clearly.<br /><br />5. Trump employs anywhere from 30-60 campaign staffers. Hillary has over 600! "I alone can fix it." Really? Who takes that seriously? Nobody with a clear understanding of how a three-branch democratic system of government works.<br /><br />6. Since announcing his candidacy, Trump has raised slightly more than $90 million. Doesn't sound awful, right? Only 3% has come from Super Pacs, by the way. Hillary has raised almost $375 million! Nearly 1/3 has come from Super Pacs. Pretty fucking interesting.<br /><br />Don't believe those last three stats? Fine. Google them for yourself like I did. Or maybe you can get Bill O'Reilly to fact check me and stop me if I'm spinning.<br /><br />7. For me, here's the real clincher: Trump's VP pick, Mike Pence, was the worst possible choice he could've made. With so many Independents and moderate Democrats declaring they're undecided because they don't trust Hillary, Trump should've picked a moderate like she did. Tim Kaine was the near-perfect choice to sway those middle voters. Pence is one of the most conservative members of Congress! He's not bringing anyone to the table. And don't give me evangelics and Tea Party conservatives. They won't vote for Hillary unless Jesus tells them to. And maybe not even then.<br /><br />Final thoughts. I don't take Trump seriously. Never have. He reminds me of the old Andy Kaufman character, Tony Clifton. If you wanna believe in conspiracy theories, here's one - maybe Andy didn't die and Trump is the Clifton character. They'd be about the same age now. Judge for yourself. Here's a graphic I found online.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fUKEVuA0tHk/V6NUR6I1-2I/AAAAAAAAAk8/CWqHYtQXH8AMP4LZvzZHV2eno7j1M46YgCLcB/s1600/trump%2Bas%2Bclifton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fUKEVuA0tHk/V6NUR6I1-2I/AAAAAAAAAk8/CWqHYtQXH8AMP4LZvzZHV2eno7j1M46YgCLcB/s320/trump%2Bas%2Bclifton.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-42011651176828781422016-07-05T10:20:00.000-07:002016-07-05T10:20:19.932-07:00An Ice Cream Cone and the American Dream<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JWMWNXpCBSI/V3vqfcYx7qI/AAAAAAAAAj0/ofAwIr5mPxw8kuJGGMZruyOUTV59uhQ1QCLcB/s1600/logo.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JWMWNXpCBSI/V3vqfcYx7qI/AAAAAAAAAj0/ofAwIr5mPxw8kuJGGMZruyOUTV59uhQ1QCLcB/s320/logo.png" width="215" /></a></div><br />When my grandfather died almost 25 years ago, I was surprised by my uncle's (my mom's brother's) eulogy. Not because he discussed the shortcomings of their relationship as father and son, but because he characterized it by saying his father never took him for an ice cream cone when he was a child.<br /><br />It wasn't until this summer that I understood what he meant. I'm sure I knew all along, but I finally made a connection.<br /><br />When my wife and I went to Florida last week to visit my best friend from high school, he mentioned in passing that he picked up a gallon of ice cream for me so I would have some while we visited. (This was later coupled with a quest to find an ice cream stand I remembered from an earlier trip. We found it, eventually. The line was as long as shit, so we didn't wait.)<br /><br />Of all the things, my buddy could've grabbed for me, why ice cream? It made me curious. Ice cream means something. Kind of like that fucking mountain of mashed potatoes in <i>Close Encounters of the Third Kind</i>. But why?<br /><br />Slowly, the pieces fell in place. My parents were both raised in poverty. They didn't get along as best as they could've as a married couple, but they both worked their asses off to provide a better life for their children. My brothers and I (and our wives) all do the same. We work until we have no energy left and then work some more so we can give our children the best possible lives. We want better for them. That's the American Dream. It's all shown in our love of ice cream. It's a fucking rite of passage. Handing our children an ice cream cone and saying, "Here, this is for you. I'm taking time away from everything else I do to give you this because I love you and want you to be happy in life." We take ice cream seriously. We go from place to place trying to find the best. My children can tell you exactly where to get my favorite.<br /><br />Consider this. My dad travels to NC to visit us twice a year. He always includes in his trip a weekend jaunt to PA. He goes there under the guise of attending a Mack truck show. (Yes, he's a bad-ass truck driver.)<br /><br />He really goes there because he wants ice cream. I have proof. He took over 100 photos when he went up there earlier this month, but only two of them were of ice cream. The rest were all Mack trucks. So? Guess which two he made me download onto my computer so I can show my children? They mean something. He knows how to show he loves us. His grandchildren might not drive trucks, but they'll sure as fuck appreciate good ice cream.<br /><br />A couple of nights ago, he calls me while watching the Mets lose. This is typical. Like the football Giants, he's the biggest fan I've ever met but hates all the players. Anyhow, during the talk, his tone changes abruptly. "Seriously, Tommy," he says. This is the voice of my childhood. The voice that wants to know exactly what that bus driver did to me before my dad goes to have a "talk" with him. This is <i>I'm a little scared right now, Daddy</i>. "What's up, Dad?" He says: "How can you say you like that ice cream place near your house better than the one in Pennsylvania, if you've never even tried it?" I sigh. "Dad, I'm teasing you." There's a pause. Then he says, "Cause you know they have more flavors up there, right?" "I know, Dad." Then the conversation goes back to the Mets or music or one of the hundred other things my old man enjoys talking about, and I daydream about stories he's told me of how he'd run to the corner store with a quarter in his pocket when he was a kid so he could bring ice cream back home to his parents.<br /><br />This isn't to exclude my mom and her love of ice cream from the conversation. I can't remember going anyplace or anywhere with her when we were young without this inquiry: "You want ice cream, Tommy?" Which really means she wanted it, of course. I have more Daddy stories because I'm a Daddy's boy, not because I don't recognize the love and hard work my mom put into taking care of her three boys while my dad was out on the road.<br /><br />I can't tell you how to raise your children. You have to do that for yourself. Sharing an ice cream cone is a way of showing love in our family. Apparently, it rubs off. Think of my Florida friend. And this: on the last day of school each year, my wife takes our children to ice cream for dinner. Pretty fucking awesome, huh? If you're looking for a way to connect with your kids (or your grandkids), steal this idea. There's plenty of ice cream to go around. And I get the feeling they won't stop making it anytime soon.Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-84472657058150338532016-05-12T03:18:00.000-07:002016-05-12T03:18:00.047-07:00The Norton Poltergeist by Catherine Cavendish<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sjJ7yg69Ty0/VzOPfAoXohI/AAAAAAAAAiw/XJPTiGsr3zw-cM89VYlak0j3PoheA7ZXACLcB/s1600/pic%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sjJ7yg69Ty0/VzOPfAoXohI/AAAAAAAAAiw/XJPTiGsr3zw-cM89VYlak0j3PoheA7ZXACLcB/s320/pic%2B1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="p1">My new novel – <i>The Devil’s Serenade –</i> mostly takes place in an imposing Gothic style mansion built by Victorian industrialist Nathaniel Hargest. When Maddie Chambers inherits it from her Aunt Charlotte, she soon discovers she has acquired far more than mere bricks and mortar. From the strange appearance of tree roots growing in the cellar to the manifestations, noises and a nostalgic wartime song played again and again, Maddie’s fears grow and intensify. What is going on here – and who, or what, is seemingly hell-bent on driving her insane?</div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p1">Of course, my novel is just that – fiction. But, in real life, there have been numerous reports of houses cursed, or possessed by demons. Sometimes these emanate from the ground on which the house was built. Other times, the builder of the house has somehow managed to impart his – or her – evil into the fabric of the place so that it becomes irrevocably woven into the walls.</div><br /><div class="p1">Sometimes the activity seems to start spontaneously, only to stop just as abruptly. In these cases, poltergeists are often blamed – quite often linked to the presence in the house of a girl entering puberty. One such case has been reported by Daniel Simms, a Paranormal Investigator from Staffordshire, England.</div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mZZ73pphDq4/VzOPwPw_CwI/AAAAAAAAAi0/svJRceACLPcLbUqVKMoQPqEb4gohodIbgCLcB/s1600/pic%2B2.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mZZ73pphDq4/VzOPwPw_CwI/AAAAAAAAAi0/svJRceACLPcLbUqVKMoQPqEb4gohodIbgCLcB/s320/pic%2B2.jpe" width="320" /></a></div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p1">He writes of a twelve year old girl called Tegan – a child of strict Catholic parents who had been taught that lying was a sin. She and her two sisters attended their local church at least twice a week and were devout in their beliefs.</div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p1">Back in 1999, Tegan kept a diary, which she still retains to this day. In it she reported the strange events that took place then.</div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p1">It all began one Saturday morning as the sisters were eating their breakfast at the kitchen table. Tegan reached across the table for the salt cellar. Before she could pick it up, it moved. By itself. The sisters watched it, mouths wide open in disbelief. Tegan reached for it again. This time it jerked away from her.</div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p1">The girls were shocked and scared. They told their father but he remonstrated with them, accusing them of lying to him. They weren’t able to convince him and tried to put the whole incident behind them.</div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p1">But just two nights later – Monday, May 10<sup>th</sup> – Tegan recounted in her diary a night she would never forget.</div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p1"></div><div class="p1">A thunderstorm brought lightning and hail and, when it had passed over, the air felt “strangely static” in their home. By now it was their bedtime and the girls made their usual preparations and settled down to sleep in the room they shared.</div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pa4GNeOmtQQ/VzOP8x2EpZI/AAAAAAAAAi4/LJy0LSs9KhM_NlJP6p9mqwmqLfwRn9xqQCLcB/s1600/pic%2B3.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pa4GNeOmtQQ/VzOP8x2EpZI/AAAAAAAAAi4/LJy0LSs9KhM_NlJP6p9mqwmqLfwRn9xqQCLcB/s1600/pic%2B3.jpe" /></a></div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p1">But sleep would not come that night. Within minutes a scratching noise circulated around the floor. The sisters sat up in their beds. The noise grew louder and moved closer to the girls’ beds. By now, Tegan was crying silently, too scared to make a noise. She hugged her legs close to her body, trying to make herself as small as possible and to keep away from the invisible intruder.</div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p1">The noise moved directly towards her, stopping at the foot of her bed. Then silence.</div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p1">She waited. Still nothing. Tegan moved to get out of bed sideways in order to escape to the relative safety of one of her sisters’ beds. As she did so, her bed started to shake violently, throwing her around as if she were a rag doll. She screamed and the bed stopped shaking.</div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p1">The terrified sisters told their father what had happened and this time, seeing how scared they were, he believed them and called in the services of the local priest. He performed an exorcism and, since then, there have been no further instances of poltergeist activity.</div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p1"></div><div class="p1">But to this day, Tegan maintains her story is true and that she still feels the fear when talking of what she went through. Where this particular phenomenon emanated from, who can say? But, In Daniel Simms’ opinion, there is no doubt that Tegan believes she was subjected to some kind of supernatural force that no one has yet has managed to satisfactorily explain.</div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SdGf-aUMGIo/VzOQI93vhgI/AAAAAAAAAi8/w4sqZh4OGHIayowdd0Fj4ojZ3qX7l6i8ACLcB/s1600/pic%2B4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SdGf-aUMGIo/VzOQI93vhgI/AAAAAAAAAi8/w4sqZh4OGHIayowdd0Fj4ojZ3qX7l6i8ACLcB/s320/pic%2B4.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p1">Now, to give you a taste of <i>The Devil’s Serenade, </i>here’s the blurb:</div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p2"><i>Maddie had forgotten that cursed summer. Now she’s about to remember…</i></div><div class="p2"><br /></div><div class="p2">“Madeleine Chambers of Hargest House” has a certain grandeur to it. But as Maddie enters the Gothic mansion she inherited from her aunt, she wonders if its walls remember what she’s blocked out of the summer she turned sixteen.</div><div class="p2"><br /></div><div class="p2">She’s barely settled in before a series of bizarre events drive her to question her sanity. Aunt Charlotte’s favorite song shouldn’t echo down the halls. The roots of a faraway willow shouldn’t reach into the cellar. And there definitely shouldn’t be a child skipping from room to room.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="p2">As the barriers in her mind begin to crumble, Maddie recalls the long-ago summer she looked into the face of evil. Now, she faces something worse. The mansion’s long-dead builder, who has unfinished business—and a demon that hungers for her very soul.</div><div class="p3"><i><br /></i></div><div class="p3"><i>Here’s an extract:</i></div><div class="p2"><br /></div><div class="p2">A large flashlight rested on the bottom stair and I switched it on, shining it into the dark corners. There wasn’t a lot to see. A few broken bits of furniture, old fashioned kitchen chairs, some of which looked vaguely familiar, jam jars, crates that may once have held bottles of beer.&nbsp;</div><div class="p2"><br /></div><div class="p2">The beam caught the clump of gnarled and twisted roots that intertwined with each other, like Medusa’s snakes. I edged closer to it, my heart thumping more than it should. It was only a tree, for heaven’s sake! The nearest one was probably the willow. Surely, that was too far away? I knew little about trees, but I was pretty certain their roots couldn’t extend <i>that</i> far.</div><div class="p2"><br /></div><div class="p2">I examined the growth from every angle in that silent cellar. The roots were definitely spreading along the floor and, judging by the thickness and appearance of them, had been there for many years. Gray, like thick woody tendrils, they reached around six feet along and possibly four feet across at their widest point. I bent down. Close up, the smell that arose from them was cloyingly sweet. Sickeningly so. I put one hand over my nose, rested the flashlight on the steps and reached out with the fingers of my free hand to touch the nearest root. It wriggled against my palm.</div><div class="p2"><br /></div><div class="p2">I cried out, staggered backward and fell against the stairs. The flashlight clattered to the floor and went out. Only the overhead bulb provided any light, and it didn’t reach this darkest corner. Something rustled. I struggled to my feet, grabbed the torch and ran up the stairs. I slammed the door shut and locked it, leaned against it and tried to slow down my breathing. A marathon runner couldn’t have panted more.</div><div class="p2"><br /></div><div class="p2">I tapped the flashlight and it flickered into life, seemingly none the worse for its accident. I switched it off and set it on the floor by the cellar door. Whoever came to fix those roots was going to need it.</div><div class="p4"><br /></div><div class="p5"><i>You can find </i>The Devil’s Serenade <i>here:</i></div><div class="p6"><i></i><br /></div><div class="p5" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><a href="https://www.samhainpublishing.com/book/5773/the-devils-serenade" target="_blank">Samhain Publishing</a></span></div><div class="p5" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><a href="http://mybook.to/DevilsSerenade" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></div><div class="p5" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-devils-serenade-catherine-cavendish/1123351363?ean=9781619232600" target="_blank">Barnes and Noble</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="p5" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/the-devil-s-serenade" target="_blank">Kobo</a></span></div><div class="p5" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="p5" style="text-align: center;">And other online retailers</div><div class="p1"></div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p1">About the author:</div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QgauquL-n0A/VzOQfQ3MvLI/AAAAAAAAAjE/EpJb_OIGXjUOnuyTyp-ejDRIRCXkRVuIQCLcB/s1600/pic%2B5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QgauquL-n0A/VzOQfQ3MvLI/AAAAAAAAAjE/EpJb_OIGXjUOnuyTyp-ejDRIRCXkRVuIQCLcB/s1600/pic%2B5.JPG" /></a></div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p1">Following a varied career in sales, advertising and career guidance, Cat is now the full-time author of a number of paranormal, ghostly and Gothic horror novels, novellas and short stories. She was the 2013 joint winner of the Samhain Gothic Horror Anthology Competition, with&nbsp;<i>Linden Manor</i>, which features in the anthology&nbsp;<i>What Waits in the Shadows</i>. &nbsp;Other titles include: <i>The Pendle Curse,</i>&nbsp;<i>Saving Grace Devine,</i> <i>Dark Avenging Angel, The Second Wife, Miss Abigail’s Room, The Demons of Cambian Street, The Devil Inside Her, Cold Revenge </i>and <i>In My Lady’s Chamber.</i></div><div class="p2"><br /></div><div class="p3"><i>You can connect with Cat here:</i></div><div class="p4"><br /></div><div class="p3" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><a href="http://www.catherinecavendish.com/" target="_blank">Catherine Cavendish</a></span></div><div class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/CatherineCavendishWriter?ref=hl%20%5Ct%20_blank" target="_blank">Facebook</a></div><div class="p3" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><a href="https://twitter.com/Cat_Cavendish" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></div><div class="p3" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4961171.Catherine_Cavendish?from_search=true" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></span></div><div class="p1"></div><div class="p3" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><a href="http://www.tsu.co/CatherineCavendish" target="_blank">Tsu</a></span></div>Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-20538448694338138712016-03-17T14:15:00.000-07:002016-03-18T07:44:03.913-07:00Serve Your Queen. Spoil Your Princess.This one's for the boys.<br /><br />Wanna be happy? Take my advice. Serve your Queen. Spoil your Princess.<br /><br />I'm not saying every girl you'll ever meet falls into only two categories. They don't. They shouldn't. My advice applies across the board. Assess. Monitor and adjust. Play in the moment. Know when to serve and when to spoil. Use some fucking common sense. <br /><br />But, above all, know this: she comes first. Got it? If not, go fuck yourself. Because she does.<br /><br />And you're not gonna be perfect. I sure as hell ain't. My needs come first way too often. Sure, I could blame my wife. She aims to please. She sets the trap. I should know better by now. She plays the "Serve your King; Spoil your Prince" game every day. I can't let her.<br /><br />Remember, she comes first. Got it? If not, go fuck yourself. Because she does.<br /><br />But I really want to tell you <i>how</i> to do these things, not yell at you. So pick and choose what you need. Take what you want. Figure out when you need to serve and when you need to spoil. But do both. Often. And you'll have plenty of fun along the way.<br /><b><br /></b><b>How to serve?</b><br />This one's easy. Do the little things.<br /><br />For example, I know my wife hates doing the laundry, so I try and pitch in every chance I get. Even if it's carrying the dirty clothes to the laundry room. I'll make the bed before she gets a chance. Do the dishes. Run the vacuum. Write the grocery list. Put up coffee. Cook dinner. I'm not much for taking care of her dog, but I'll walk and feed him if it means my wife can sleep in on the weekends.<br /><br />I realize this is 2016 and couples are meant to share domestic duties. I get it. And I hope every couple does. But it's hard to shake antiquated notions, especially when your wife is a stay-at-home mom (or whatever it's called these days) and feels guilty if she's not doing every single household chore.<br /><br />Here are some other ideas: go get her car washed, serviced, or fill the fucking tank for her without being asked. Hire a housecleaning service for the month. Mow the lawn. (This one's especially tough for me because I hate being outside. The flying insects target me. They do. And they bite.) Run errands for her. Go to the bank, the post office, the drug store. Pick up the kids, for a change.<br /><br />You get it? Serve! It means doing the little things for her. Making her life easy. Your Queen wants that. And so should you.<br /><br /><b>How to spoil?</b><br />This one's harder. You have to know how to romance and shower with affection.<br /><br />Rule #1: tell your Princess she's beautiful every day. In my opinion, this means more than saying, "I love you." Your Princess needs to know that you see her beauty. She's like sunshine.<br /><br />If you want to go the flowers and chocolate route, don't offer those only on special occasions. Your Princess should throw those at you if you wait till Valentine's Day. There doesn't need to be a reason, if you're spoiling right.<br /><br />Book a massage, splurge at the salon, take her shopping, wine and dine, let her pick the Saturday night movie for a change. Take a walk with her. Go to the gym together. Break out her favorite board game so you're not parked in front of the TV all night. Let her wake up to a Victoria's Secret gift card sitting in her inbox. Make sure your Princess knows she comes first!<br /><br />And here's a big one: let your Princess have girls night when she wants. I struggle with this, ain't gonna lie. I get lonely. I like attention and proximity. But distance can work to your advantage. Let your hearts grow fonder. Missing a person says a lot about how you feel. About how you're connected. You can't be up each other's ass all the time. That isn't healthy.<br /><br />This last part's tough, boys. Don't be selfish in the bedroom. You can't spoil your Princess if all you care about are your needs. Take your time. Rub her feet, massage her back and shoulders, kiss her tenderly on the lips. I have students who read this blog, so I'll stop there. But you get the picture, right? Go slow. Your Princess won't enjoy herself otherwise. It's all about being relaxed. If you want it over fast, just go to the bathroom and jerk off.<br /><br />But your Princess won't have any fun, and nobody wants that.Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-49764032654702234752016-02-24T08:45:00.000-08:002016-03-17T12:36:09.114-07:00I Want to Teach or Retire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This follows up an entry I wrote in September and a promise to my family and my students to remain positive this school year. I've kept up my end of the bargain. I'm having a solid year. In fact, this is probably the best schedule I've ever had, certainly since I started working in my current school district eleven years ago.</div><br />But we got dumped on again yesterday, and it fucking pisses me off. The state issued new requirements and imposed new regulations for hiring independent contractors to work in our schools. The application is about four or five pages long and requires multiple levels of red tape for approval once completed.<br /><br />Look, I understand the need to make sure our students are safe. I have two teenagers. I know. But, this is not at all about the students. It's about protecting the districts so they aren't held liable or accountable should anything go wrong.<br /><br />But that's just the start. We're also required to initiate contracts now when we rent equipment. That fucking document is about ten pages long and requires an attorney to translate.<br /><br />So that means when I need props, costumes, scenery, or anything else for my theatre program (and I rent one thing or another for every show I produce), I have to complete multiple applications, and then fax, email, or snail mail them for signatures before submitting to the school and district for approval. Those procedures will take weeks at the least! School districts take several days just to put toilet paper in the bathrooms so we can wipe our asses. Tell me how the fuck all that serves the best interests of our students? Not to mention art and artists don't work that way. We need what we need when we fucking need it.<br /><br />Since when did public schools become corporations? We're micro-managed every step of the way. I'm almost 50 years old and have been in the business nearly 25 years. That's half my life. Why can't I be trusted as a professional? Why do I need to ask for permission to make decisions that I feel are in the best interests of my students and my program?<br /><br />Despite all this (and this doesn't take into consideration any of the dozen initiatives launched in our schools each year), we're expected to wake up each morning and give our students our best.<br /><br />Maybe it's easy when you're young. You know, to look at the smiling faces and think,&nbsp;<i>this is why I do this; I don't care about all the bullshit.</i> I got news for young teachers - those feelings go away. And it's a shame. They want us to be bookkeeping, data-crunching valets, but we're not. I didn't go to school for accounting. I'm no one's doorman. I want to teach or retire.<br /><br />But here's another kick in the ass. The pension I earned in the state where I worked previously is locked in their retirement system. There's no reciprocity. I can't transfer those years. Not unless I want to pay about $100K per year. Oh, I'll still collect my pension, of course. But what good will it do when I can't combine it with the years in my current state? I don't even think it'll be enough to pay my monthly electricity bill.<br /><br />There are things I'm good at. I read, write, edit, sing, play guitar, photograph, film, cook, make people laugh. I'm an artist. I won't be able to make a living that way, even while collecting both pensions, but I'll drive a fucking forklift at Costco if I have to. I hear they're an amazing company. And at least there I'll know what I am.<br /><br />I've only got four years of teaching to go after this one. I'm thankful for my wife. Not only does she listen to these complaints every night, but she supports every thing I do. Helps me fulfill every dream. She never thinks she's enough. But she's everything. I look forward to the day when I close the lights in my classroom for the last time and go home to hold her.Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-38812566389433493992015-12-28T08:19:00.001-08:002015-12-28T08:19:25.015-08:00Best Reads of 2015I spent a lot of time writing this year. I finished <i>Queensboro</i>&nbsp;last winter, wrapped <i>Winter</i>&nbsp;in early August, and cranked out a couple of short stories this fall (my "Cat's Eye" won a contest!). The entire <i>Crow Creek</i> series will be released through Samhain Publishing over the next 13 months (a little shameless self-promotion shall not perish from the Earth).<br /><br />I also read as much as possible, balancing the classics (I have Elmore Leonard, Jack Ketchum, and Neil Gaiman sitting on the shelf beside me) with contemporary works so I can stay current in my practice. Picking the best books (or the best of anything) is never easy, but I love lists, so I thought I'd throw my two cents into the year-end pot. Here's what I read and what I liked. Thank you to these wonderful authors for sharing their passion. My reviews are general so as not to give away any spoilers. I've cropped some of what I previously posted on Goodreads.<br /><br />10. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Those-Who-Left-Josh-Stricklin/dp/0692415335/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1451262417&amp;sr=1-1" target="_blank">Those Who Are Left</a> by Josh Stricklin<br />I found this through an Amazon recommendation, actually. When you order enough horror novels, they have an algorithm that suits your interests. Clever. This one is fast-paced and intense. Better than the ones Stephen King put his brand name on this year. Maybe this hasn't passed his desk yet. Could be too low-budget for him. It's apocalyptic but funny. The protagonist is endearing. The violence and horror are appropriately surreal. I hope the rest of the series is as much of a thrill ride.<br /><br />9. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dust-Dead-John-Palisano/dp/1619229765/ref=la_B007EEH9JA_1_10?s=books&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1451262614&amp;sr=1-10" target="_blank">Dust of the Dead</a> by John Palisano<br />I met this fellow Samhain author at the World Horror Conference in Atlanta last spring. He's original and inspiring. I read this twist on the zombie apocalypse in a day. He does a believable job creating a post-apocalyptic Los Angeles without being mundane or cliche. He effectively blends suspense, horror, and dark comedy and leaves you gasping for more. This harrowing odyssey is a must read for all fans of the zombie genre.<br /><br />8. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Shutter-Courtney-Alameda/dp/1250044677/ref=la_B00OBMQAPM_1_1?s=books&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1451262659&amp;sr=1-1" target="_blank">Shutter</a> by Courtney Alameda<br />I also met Alameda at the World Horror Conference. She's creative, dedicated to her craft, and brooding. Everything a horror writer should be. This young-adult ghost story is very engaging. It has the perfect blend of fantasy and reality. The descriptions are balanced evenly with the acton. The lead characters are strong and believable. Her ear for dialogue is spot on. It's creepy, cool, and funny at times. My teenage daughter read it in two days.<br /><br />7.&nbsp;<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Futuristic-Violence-Fancy-Suits-Novel/dp/1250040191/ref=la_B0028SADEU_1_1?s=books&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1451262518&amp;sr=1-1" target="_blank">Futuristic Violence and Fancy Suits</a>&nbsp;by David Wong<br />Not so much horror/comedy as satirical science fiction, David Wong continues to impress. His vision of the future is thoroughly frightening, especially his commentary on social media and our culture of dehumanization. An exciting and hilarious adventure,&nbsp;<i>Futuristic Violence</i>&nbsp;is stylistically superb. One can only wonder how soon his nightmare world will become all-too real.<br /><br />6. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cure-Jg-Faherty/dp/1619229730/ref=sr_1_12?s=books&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1451317822&amp;sr=1-12" target="_blank">The Cure</a> by JG Faherty<br />I shared interview time on <a href="http://original.livestream.com/zombiepaloozaradio" target="_blank">Zombiepalooza Radio</a> with this Samhain author. He's intelligent and inspiring. <i>The Cure</i> is one of the scariest novels I've read in a long time. It's also one of the best. Faherty is a master at building characters. The reader can't escape the torture the protagonist endures. This powerful story of love, corruption, redemption, and loss is a mature read. I can't wait for his next.<br /><br />5. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sarah-Romani-Thriller-Tom-Calen/dp/1503391248/ref=la_B006OH16WE_1_2?s=books&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1451262706&amp;sr=1-2" target="_blank">Sarah of the Romani</a> by Tom Calen<br />Quite different from his <i>Pandemic Sequence</i>, Tom Calen's found his voice in this suspenseful tale of witchcraft and murder. The two brothers crafted as contrasting protagonists are compelling. Calen creates a suspenseful tale of grisly murders while building a mythos that's sure to a launch another powerful horror series. &nbsp;Part Lovecraft, part King - a novel you won't be able to put down.<br /><br />4. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Scarlet-Gospels-Clive-Barker/dp/1250055806/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1451262759&amp;sr=1-1" target="_blank">The Scarlet Gospels</a> by Clive Barker<br />One of the true masters of horror returns with the final, long-awaited tale of Pinhead and the Cenobites. This time, protagonist Harry D'Amour goes to hell to rescue his blind best friend. He's well-crafted and memorable. The powerful imagery creates a demonic world of sex and violence as only Barker can create. His writing is beautiful yet horrifying. After Peter Straub, he handles language and commands words better than anyone else in the field.<br /><br />3. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Finders-Keepers-Novel-Hodges-Trilogy/dp/1501100076/ref=la_B000AQ0842_1_2?s=books&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1451262797&amp;sr=1-2" target="_blank">Finders Keepers</a> by Stephen King<br />This book is vintage King. Brilliant story, amazing character development, and non-stop action. I devoured this book faster than any of his I've read in a long time. Enjoyed it so much more than <i>Revival</i> and <i>Mr. Mercedes</i>. I was happy to see King return to his roots in the final scene with the set up for the next book in the series.<br /><br />2. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Such-Dark-Thing-Theology-Narrative/dp/1620327198/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1451262843&amp;sr=1-1" target="_blank">Such a Dark Thing</a> by Jess Peacock<br />An engaging, thoughtful essay about the theology of horror. Drives home the point that in a world created by God, God remains culpable for all things evil. Includes an excellent annotated bibliography that covers the best of vampires in pop culture. The writing is so brilliant and intellectual that I felt like I was captivated by a favorite college professor. Peacock takes his writing and his themes seriously. He's a committed and inspiring author.<br /><br />1. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Strange-Animals-Novel-Chad-Kultgen/dp/0062119575/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1451262885&amp;sr=1-1" target="_blank">Strange Animals</a> by Chad Kultgen<br />I've enjoyed all five of Chad Kultgen's novels. He's my favorite author right now (and also the world's greatest squirrel photographer). This book cuts right to the heart of the pro-choice/pro-life debate by exposing the radical Christian right for what they are - corporate machines aimed at controlling women and denying freedom to all those with different ideologies. The narrative alternates seamlessly between the two main characters and builds momentum until their final confrontation. This book will haunt you. As always, Kultgen's work is aggressive and genuine.Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-24861876940898448822015-12-18T08:46:00.001-08:002015-12-18T08:52:54.773-08:00Why We Need Star Wars<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ENbeoPQeCNo/VnQ2m56FRWI/AAAAAAAAAfg/mlSBVK0ez_g/s1600/star%2Bwars.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ENbeoPQeCNo/VnQ2m56FRWI/AAAAAAAAAfg/mlSBVK0ez_g/s320/star%2Bwars.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Use the Force.</div><br />I haven't seen the new&nbsp;<i>Star Wars</i> movie yet, so there won't be any spoilers here (not that there would be anyhow). &nbsp;I have tickets for a Monday matinee, but I'm not sure I can wait until then.<br /><br />I'm inspired by last night's episode of <i>The Big Bang Theory</i>. &nbsp;I enjoyed their coverage of the new release, but one line gave me pause. &nbsp;While three of the geeks await the show (Sheldon's in bed with his girlfriend finding another use for the force), they're joined by Will Wheaton, dressed in <i>Star Trek</i> grab and appropriately booed and hissed by the crowd. &nbsp;Will tells our inept heroes something like, "Whether or not the movie is good won't make a difference when you wake up in the morning." &nbsp;They nod and sigh in dejected acceptance. <br /><br />I disagree. &nbsp;We need <i>Star Wars</i>,&nbsp;and we need it to be good. &nbsp;We need it to be the best fucking movie ever made. &nbsp;It makes no difference whether or not you're a fan. &nbsp;This is bigger than what George Lucas started in the 70s. &nbsp;This is not just a cultural phenomenon. &nbsp;This is how art shines. &nbsp;How creativity and imagination take us to another level. &nbsp;We're fed up. &nbsp;We're frustrated. &nbsp;We need hope. &nbsp;We're desperate for light. &nbsp;<i>Star Wars</i> gives us both.<br /><br />I liken this to the arrival of The Beatles in 1964. &nbsp;Kennedy's assassination, civil unrest, the brink of war in Vietnam; America torn apart at the seams. &nbsp;The Fab Four descended like Gods (dare I say <i>Jedi Knights</i>?) from their jet airliner and swept us away. &nbsp;I wasn't even born yet, and I'm hypnotized by the footage. &nbsp;It doesn't matter whether or not you like their music. &nbsp;(If you don't, you're fucked in the head.) &nbsp;Look, I'm an Elvis fan, first and foremost, but this isn't about competition and rivalry. &nbsp;Elvis opened the door for The Beatles. &nbsp;That's not at question. &nbsp;This is about basic human needs. &nbsp;Love and belonging. &nbsp;Self-transcendence. &nbsp;About looking at the person sitting next to you in the theatre and knowing (without saying),&nbsp;we're <i>here</i>. &nbsp;We've made it. &nbsp;We're sharing this together. &nbsp;It's fucking special. &nbsp;It's important. &nbsp;It's what makes life beautiful. &nbsp;No matter what the hell is going on in the world, we have <i>this</i>. &nbsp;Nobody can take this moment away.<br /><br />Here's another example of my thesis. &nbsp;I love the movie <i>A Bronx Tale</i>, but I question the part on the school bus when an angry Robert DeNiro asks his misguided son, "What did Mickey Mantle ever do for you?" &nbsp;Mickey Mantle did so much. &nbsp;He did everything! &nbsp;He made so many people happy (even if you hate the Yankees!). &nbsp;We care about our athletes and our sports teams for the same reason we love the movies. &nbsp;They give us something to cheer for.<br /><br />I saw&nbsp;<i>Star Wars</i>&nbsp;in 1977 with my older brother and one of his friends. &nbsp;There was commotion in the parking lot. &nbsp;A fender-bender, someone got cut off, not enough spaces. &nbsp;I can't remember anymore. &nbsp;It was New York City, though. &nbsp;There's always somebody screaming at something there. &nbsp;All I remember is being with my big brother. &nbsp;I miss those days. &nbsp;I wish I could see the new release with him (and my little brother). &nbsp;We're a country apart now, but the Force is still strong in us. &nbsp;I'll picture their smiles and hear their shouts&nbsp;when I see the Millennium Falcon and miss their grumbles at this generation's Darth Vader (while secretly loving him). &nbsp;I'll wish for matching light sabers under the Christmas tree like we got when we were small. <br /><br />But before that, I'll cry when I see those famous words light up the movie screen. &nbsp;<i>"A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...."</i>&nbsp; I'll bawl like a fucking baby. &nbsp;I need to. &nbsp;We all do.Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-21903326859970549562015-12-15T10:40:00.003-08:002015-12-15T10:50:32.418-08:00Life Is Beautiful!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1lLqbCxcMis/VnBfj__YZDI/AAAAAAAAAfI/0CY_nYG7ip8/s1600/rose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1lLqbCxcMis/VnBfj__YZDI/AAAAAAAAAfI/0CY_nYG7ip8/s1600/rose.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">A sweet rose.</div><br />I'm in the middle of a great run. &nbsp;All in the last week or so, I signed a contract for a novel, accepted an offer to direct a play for a community theatre, worked out a deal to revise a film script, and won a writing contest. &nbsp;I realize I'm not Stephen King or Steven Spielberg, but we have to take these things in stride. &nbsp;There's only one Stephen King. &nbsp;Only one Steven Spielberg. &nbsp;The rest of us are playing catch-up. <br /><br />I'm a late entry into the game, I think. &nbsp;Although I've been writing and performing for as long as I can remember, at 46 years-old, this has been a bit of a break-through year for me. &nbsp;I think two choices are most responsible for my good fortune. &nbsp;I attended the World Horror Conference in Atlanta in May and auditioned for a role in a local production of <i>Urinetown</i> last summer.&nbsp; Both of these events enabled me to see the world beyond my recliner.&nbsp; The real world.&nbsp; The one that's not on my television or in my iPhone.&nbsp; I established relationships, connected with professional artists, and learned an invaluable lesson.&nbsp; Life is too short not to appreciate beauty.<br /><br />You might think Drago's gone crazy.&nbsp; Fallen off his fucking rocker.&nbsp; Maybe I have.&nbsp; There's a lot of shit going on in the world.&nbsp; I know it.&nbsp; But, I also think it's very easy to fall into the trap of despair.&nbsp; That's why I write horror.&nbsp; It's easy.&nbsp; Misery loves company, after all.&nbsp; Simply put, I think the media dwells so much on the negative that it makes it convenient for all of us to do so.&nbsp; The same is true with social media.&nbsp; I make an effort to keep my posts positive; I don't always succeed, but I get so tired of reading the rants of those upset about one political issue or another that I can't force myself to join the conversation.&nbsp; It's exhausting.<br /><br />I choose to embrace beauty.&nbsp; For every crazy lunatic plotting to kill and maim, there are thousands of others we never hear about struggling to do good.&nbsp; To be good.&nbsp; To elevate humanity.&nbsp; These people come in all walks of life.&nbsp; You know who I'm talking about.&nbsp; There are the obvious ones.&nbsp; The nurses, the teachers (fuck, yes, there are amazing teachers), social workers, firefighters, soldiers, etc. &nbsp;The ones we always talk about every day. &nbsp;But there are others.&nbsp; The ones who'll let you merge lanes in traffic or give up their seats on a crowded plane or hand over their shopping carts when you have too much to carry. &nbsp;I don't believe altruism starts with charity. &nbsp;It's easy to give when you have something to give. &nbsp;It's tough to give when you don't. &nbsp;That's selfless. &nbsp;I think it's called sacrifice. &nbsp;It's beautiful.<br /><br />Don't get me wrong.&nbsp; I'm still as intolerant as ever.&nbsp; I have no patience.&nbsp; I'm completely neurotic.&nbsp; Paranoid. &nbsp;Frustrated.&nbsp; Those personality traits will never go away.&nbsp; I'm grateful my wife and children tolerate them.&nbsp; But, at heart, I'm a hopeless romantic. &nbsp;I try to do good things. &nbsp;I search for beauty within nightmares.Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-13226128269555220372015-11-05T11:33:00.001-08:002015-11-05T11:33:17.672-08:00Remember, Remember the 5th of November, 1999<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-irBTh2NkHHQ/VjuuzZ0Yz0I/AAAAAAAAAeg/3YS_xiqdERg/s1600/Italy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="316" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-irBTh2NkHHQ/VjuuzZ0Yz0I/AAAAAAAAAeg/3YS_xiqdERg/s320/Italy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />Probably time I told this story. &nbsp;If for nothing else, I'm afraid I'll forget it as I get older and lose more of my mind.<br /><br />My wife and I met at a rough time in our lives. &nbsp;We'd both walked away from jobs that we (for the most part) enjoyed and found ourselves running an outdoor theatre at a small charter school in North Phoenix. &nbsp;She managed their human resources; I taught drama. &nbsp;She hired me, actually. &nbsp;We fell in love over a phone call. &nbsp;I wonder if that could still happen today. &nbsp;I think we would've texted and smartphoned our way to love, regardless. <br /><br />She was still married to her first husband at the time. &nbsp;I never met him. &nbsp;They were high school sweethearts, and things didn't work out. &nbsp;They grew apart, I guess. &nbsp;I kept my distance (as much as I could) while she went through her separation. &nbsp;I remember taking her to sign her divorce papers and holding her as she trembled in my arms and told me it was the most difficult decision she'd ever made.<br /><br />Anyhow, a few other guys started showing interest in her, so I figured I'd better get off my ass. &nbsp;I invited her to meet my family for dinner the weekend we produced our first play together (a melodrama, no less). &nbsp;I'd made the mistake of not inviting her over for Thanksgiving a week earlier, much to the anger and frustration of my big brother and big sister-in-law. &nbsp;This was December 1998. &nbsp;Believe it or not, it snowed on our opening night. &nbsp;Enough to cancel the show! &nbsp;I lived in Phoenix almost 20 years and only remember one other snowfall. &nbsp; <br /><br />We spent the holidays together that year. &nbsp;We first held hands while crossing a Costco (probably Price Club, at the time) parking lot. &nbsp;We attended a Christmas party where I sang an Elvis song. &nbsp;We moved in together and were expecting our first child by Easter. &nbsp;We found out the week my niece was born but sat on the news for a bit so as not to steal her attention. &nbsp;And, of course, we weren't married yet. &nbsp;And my wife's divorce hadn't gone through. &nbsp;Yeah, there was that. <br /><br />By June, I proposed. &nbsp;I spent $300 on a ring (poor schoolteacher wondering how in the world he'll be able to afford a family) and $9 on a suit from Goodwill (that still hangs in the back of my closet). &nbsp;We planned a Labor Day wedding, figuring the divorce would be final by then. &nbsp;It wasn't. &nbsp;Our minister dropped out, of course. &nbsp;"What?! &nbsp;She's pregnant?! &nbsp;And she's married to another guy?! &nbsp;I'll take no part in these shenanigans!"<br /><br />So we hired a fake. &nbsp;Yes, the whole wedding was a sham. &nbsp;An enjoyable one, at that. &nbsp;If you attended and still don't know - Ha! &nbsp;We fooled ya! &nbsp;We're fucking theatre people, after all. &nbsp;The day after her divorce finalized, we went to the local courthouse and said our vows to a video camera presided over by a judge who reminded me of the one Herman Munster played in <i>My Cousin Vinny</i> (minus the Southern accent). &nbsp;This was late September 1999.<br /><br />My wife had been gravely ill during her pregnancy. &nbsp;She spent most of that summer in bed or sick in the bathroom. &nbsp;I bought her a bulldog puppy to keep her company. &nbsp;We named her Babe after my late grandfather. &nbsp;The one I'm named after. &nbsp;He was a Mack truck guy. &nbsp;(If you read my shit, you know all this already.) &nbsp;I get choked up just thinking about how much I loved that dog. &nbsp;She saved my wife in so many ways. &nbsp;I could never repay her. &nbsp;I'm glad she lived almost a dozen years.<br /><br />We had a few false alarms. &nbsp;The baby didn't want to wait. &nbsp;The hospital kept sending us home. &nbsp;My wife got weaker and sicker. &nbsp;On November 4th, the pain became unbearable. &nbsp;We rushed to the hospital (I stopped off on Northern Avenue so she could vomit in the desert darkness) where she mustered the strength to tell her doctors and nurses that she wasn't going home without her baby.<br /><br />The next morning, my mom kept my wife company while I ran last minute errands before the doctors induced labor. &nbsp;My parents were going through their own divorce by then, and I think having my mom bedside during the delivery helped her at a time when she was most fragile. &nbsp;Keep in mind, my mom lost a baby girl in utero during the early 80's. &nbsp;I hoped to shake that awful memory (if only for a moment) by giving her a chance to witness the gift of life.<br /><br />Labor lasted a while. &nbsp;My son looked like a gray fish when he was born. &nbsp;Like a miniature Creature from the Black Lagoon. &nbsp;I wanted to cut the cord but couldn't because both my wife and son needed immediate medical attention. &nbsp;The staff ran my mom and me out of the room. &nbsp;I called my dad and cried hysterically. &nbsp;"I want to kiss my wife! &nbsp;I want to hold my son! &nbsp;What the fuck do I do?"<br /><br />"You wait, Tommy. &nbsp;That's what we used to do." &nbsp;<i>You wait.</i><br /><br />The wait for me wasn't nearly as bad as it was for my wife. &nbsp;They kept our boy from her for a couple of days. &nbsp;She later told me she thought he'd died during delivery but we were keeping the news from her until she recovered. &nbsp;I'm sorry for that.<br /><br />Anyway, I changed his first poop diaper! &nbsp;I was so proud. &nbsp;I know I'm not the best father, but fuck, I try. &nbsp;We had a little girl a few years later, but that's a whole other story (with just as much excitement and equal parts miracle). &nbsp;I'm nuts about her.<br /><br />I catch myself wondering what the fuck this all means, what life means. &nbsp;I get down on myself. &nbsp;I think I have it so rough sometimes. &nbsp;Fuck that. &nbsp;Fuck me. &nbsp;I got everything. <br /><br />You waited, Tommy. &nbsp;It was so worth it.Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-50257884864345185592015-09-22T10:30:00.003-07:002015-09-22T10:30:56.709-07:00Dr. Overworked or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Stress<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-red5o4BubX8/VgF9vEBSKCI/AAAAAAAAAdg/j7TVgAQ-ymI/s1600/heatmiser2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-red5o4BubX8/VgF9vEBSKCI/AAAAAAAAAdg/j7TVgAQ-ymI/s320/heatmiser2.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />I'm so busy. &nbsp;Too busy. &nbsp;I know we all feel that way, so I'm not trying to generate any pity. &nbsp;In the past week, I've seen two young teachers in tears over stress at work. &nbsp;I don't know why anyone would want to go into the profession anymore. &nbsp;There are no incentives. &nbsp;We have no support. &nbsp;We're often vilified, even when we make decisions in the best interests of our students (like alerting authorities about a possible bomb threat). <br /><br />This post is for me. &nbsp;I need to write out everything I'm doing so when my head catches fire, I'll have an explanation. &nbsp;Be warned; it's going to be very long. &nbsp;If you don't make it all the way through, I'll understand and still love you.<br /><br />Before I start my list; did you know that my school district wants to set up a page that defines the acronyms for all the initiatives they've implemented in recent years? &nbsp;Do you realize how fucking scary that is? &nbsp;There are so many initiatives that we now need a glossary. &nbsp;When we've reached that point, I think we call can agree that the world has gone to ice (sorry Snow Miser - I've always been your brother's biggest fan). <br /><br />By the way, I don't need any initiatives. &nbsp;Not a single one. &nbsp;This is the start of my 25th year as an educator. &nbsp;Nothing the administration has provided me at any level wherever I've worked has ever helped me in any way be a better school teacher. &nbsp;All I need are students and a classroom. &nbsp;Why is that so hard for folks to figure out? &nbsp;It's not always about the lack of funding.<br /><br />I teach eight sections of theatre at the high school (four acting; four tech theatre classes) and creative writing. &nbsp;These are fun. &nbsp;I love being with the kids. &nbsp;Their energy still inspires me after all these years. &nbsp;But I hate that I now have to write lesson plans for every class using a district-mandated template. &nbsp;The state is also implementing a merit pay program. &nbsp;Fuck you. &nbsp;That's all I can say to that. &nbsp;What makes anyone think putting teachers in competition with one another will improve standardized test scores? &nbsp;&nbsp;Do you see the smoke rising from my ears?&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;You want the scores to increase? &nbsp;Teach parents how to parent. &nbsp;Make <i>them</i> go through professional development. &nbsp;Then maybe their kids will learn to read and write before they start school like mine did. &nbsp;And there's the newly modified evaluation instrument for art teachers. &nbsp;I now need to record and upload student performances as proof that they're learning what I'm teaching. &nbsp;Wonderful. &nbsp;We can't even get a strong enough wi-fi signal for gmail in our building. &nbsp;Not to mention we've been given no assessment tool and have no evaluation process in place. &nbsp;They're making it up as they go along. &nbsp;What else should we expect from politicians?<br /><br />Let me stop being so fucking negative. &nbsp;This isn't supposed to be a rant. &nbsp;I'm just making a list of everything I do so I can prioritize. <br /><br /><i>Deep breaths, Tommy. &nbsp;Ease the burn. &nbsp;A slow roast will cook you just the same. &nbsp;Even better, perhaps.</i><br /><br />I teach two sections of expository writing at the college. &nbsp;I love this job. &nbsp;I'll do anything my department chair asks. &nbsp;She's wonderful. &nbsp;I taught her daughter (who is now a high school drama teacher and also wonderful).<br /><br />I produce the after-school drama program at the high school. &nbsp;We are running four plays in repertory over consecutive weekends starting in early November. &nbsp;We will produce a spring musical. &nbsp;This tires me out but engages my creative desire.<br /><br />I sponsor the drama club and Improv team. &nbsp;Minimal work here. &nbsp;The students run things, as well they should. &nbsp;Both highly entertaining.<br /><br />I supervise a study hall. &nbsp;Always a solid, quiet place to work for my students and me; although, I'd rather have them in my theatre classes. &nbsp;But I've given up that fight. <br /><br /><i>Choose your battles, Drago. &nbsp;Choose them wisely.</i><br /><br />I'm the Arts Department Chair. &nbsp;I work with an amazing department. &nbsp;They make this job very easy.<br /><br />I've been selected as the Theatre PLC Leader (that's <i>Professional Learning Community</i>&nbsp;Leader - your first acronym; aren't you thrilled?) for our district. &nbsp;I'm trying to get out of this. &nbsp;I was volunteered.<br /><br />I'm organizing my drama program's participation in the North Carolina Theatre Festival this fall. &nbsp;We've won awards in the past. &nbsp;I think this group has the potential to give us more.<br /><br />I'm organizing a New York City trip for my advanced acting classes in the spring. &nbsp;What's not to like here? &nbsp;New York is my hometown. &nbsp;I'd live there if I could afford to. &nbsp;At least, I'll squeeze in John's Pizzeria and Rocco's Pastry Shop a couple of times, both on Bleecker Street.<br /><br />I'm covering for the vacant theatre manager position at our high school. &nbsp;Not fun. &nbsp;Lots of stress. &nbsp;This deserves a post all on its own, but I won't go there. &nbsp;Hopefully will be resolved soon.<br /><br />I'm revising my third novel and writing two short stories for submission into a local magazine. &nbsp;Keeps my brain sharp. &nbsp;And as Stephen King once wrote, "Keeps the gators fed." &nbsp;Fellow horror writers should get that reference.<br /><br />I'm adjudicating two separate categories for a professional writing competition. &nbsp;So cool. &nbsp;But I won't pick titles just because everyone says they're good. &nbsp;I take Poe's stance on criticism. &nbsp;I'm a bitch.<br /><br />I'm performing in a musical production for a local community theatre this fall. &nbsp;This is a blast. &nbsp;I have a small part but love the work. &nbsp;My son is in the show. &nbsp;He sings and dances. &nbsp;His dancing is hilarious (not on purpose). &nbsp;He makes me smile.<br /><br />I'm the Board Pesident for (a currently inactive) local community theatre. &nbsp;This makes me sad. &nbsp;My wife and I worked so hard to build this program, but we're defunct now because we couldn't generate consistent support from the locals. &nbsp;A shame, really.<br /><br />In addition to all those jobs, I try my best to be a loving husband, responsible father, respectful son, and supportive brother. &nbsp;Still no friends, though. &nbsp;I keep telling myself I don't have the time.Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-24709005262137588392015-09-11T10:31:00.001-07:002015-09-11T10:31:13.348-07:00Where are you, New York?We remember tragedies in great detail. &nbsp;It's unfortunate. &nbsp;I have a clearer image in my mind of those fucking planes than I do of my daughter taking her first steps. <br /><br />I cry for the innocent people who lost their lives that day. &nbsp;And for our fallen heroes. &nbsp;The firefighters, the police officers, the paramedics, the pilots and flight crews, for anyone who did anything to help another human being on a day when humanity stopped being humanity. &nbsp;The day the sirens wailed, and the dust fell, and the people screamed, and the buildings crashed, and the smoke billowed, and <i>oh my God</i>, look at those lost faces on TV, those beautiful child-like faces, covered in ash and scampering across the Brooklyn Bridge. &nbsp;My home, the streets my parents ruled as teenagers, the city my grandparents and immigrant great-grandparents built. &nbsp;Broadway. &nbsp;The Harlem Globetrotters at Madison Square Garden. &nbsp;Central Park. &nbsp;The F Train. &nbsp;Staten Island Little League. &nbsp;The Mets, the Jets (the <i>fucking</i>&nbsp;jets), the Giants, the Yankees. &nbsp;Babe Ruth. &nbsp;The rides at Coney Island. &nbsp;With my big brother watching me because that's what big brothers do. &nbsp;They watch your back. &nbsp;But who had our backs then? &nbsp;Who protected us when the lights went out? &nbsp;When the sun finally set? &nbsp;Where's my daddy? &nbsp;I want my daddy. &nbsp;Where are you, New York? &nbsp;Fucking New York. &nbsp;I love you.<br /><br />For the countless schoolteachers, like me, locked in classrooms with students who wanted answers but were given none.<br /><br />That fall, I started teaching English at the local high school. &nbsp;I'd spent the previous year cursing fate at the neighboring middle school. &nbsp;I knocked on the principal's door that summer and inquired about starting up an after-school theatre program. &nbsp;I loved that woman. &nbsp;What a champion of women's rights! &nbsp;To my knowledge, the first female principal in the state of Tennessee (long before my time as an educator and prior to our relocation to North Carolina). &nbsp;She accepted my offer (I told her I'd kindly repay the $500 she put up for my production of <i>Frankenstein</i> out of ticket sales) and I spent most of the first month of school cleaning out backstage. &nbsp;The chorus teacher, a crotchety woman working on her doctorate, found me in the bowels of the auditorium (where theatre guys spend all their waking hours, it seems) and told me a plane had hit the World Trade Center. &nbsp;I'd heard stories of the prop that hit the Empire State Building in the 1940s or whenever, so I didn't think much of it. &nbsp;I continued shifting scenery and organizing props until first period ended. &nbsp;Then, I turned on the classroom TV, shocked into truth with the rest of our nation.<br /><br />We cried and clung to one another but remained strong for the children entrusted to our custody. &nbsp;That's what teachers do, and mine is ultimately a teacher's story, after all. <br /><br />The only thing I can compare it to is when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded, and my high school calculus teacher held our hands as we watched events unfold on live TV. &nbsp;That's probably the first time I ever realized how important the surrogate relationship is for teachers. &nbsp;We answer the call as best we can, pinned on our backs with our hearts in the dirt.Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-66449494545255457862015-09-09T10:38:00.001-07:002015-09-09T10:41:17.405-07:00What Does It Take To Be A Good Actor?Courage.<br /><br />A better topic for this post might be, "How many words in this title should have the first letter capitalized?" &nbsp;I capitalized every one just to cover my bases. &nbsp;Wouldn't want the alphabet pissed off at me. &nbsp;I swear by my letters.<br /><br />Last night, my wife and I sat in front of a rerun of <i>The Big Bang Theory</i> (this after we each had a long day at work and then spent the evening at rehearsal (me)/doing everything that it takes to make our home the perfect home that it is (my wife - I love her!)). &nbsp;Can you embed parentheses? &nbsp;I just did. &nbsp;Similar concerns here about discriminating against punctuation marks, I guess. &nbsp;See previous paragraph re: letters.<br /><br />I relaxed in my recliner half-asleep, keeping my eye on the Mets via ESPN online (I love my Kindle for everything but reading books). &nbsp;They won. &nbsp;If they make the playoffs, I do believe my son and I will be New York bound. &nbsp;My wife scrolled through her phone and found some stupid rate your teacher website. &nbsp;I say stupid because only two kinds of people go on those sites. &nbsp;Those who love you and those who hate you. &nbsp;You can't get an honest read from the masses. &nbsp;My marks aren't stellar (naturally). &nbsp;They're strikingly average (go figure). &nbsp;Most of the shit comes from about 8-10 years ago after I transferred from a school where the students worshiped me (but I got paid shit) to a school where the students rarely appreciate me (but I get paid well - yes, even as a teacher). &nbsp;You give and take in the educating business. &nbsp;Well, actually you just give. <br /><br />Anyhoo, the one-star ratings that offer no comments don't help. &nbsp;Pure assholes, really. &nbsp;But the one with responses do, actually. &nbsp;Purely for entertainment. &nbsp;I especially enjoyed the one about my not knowing anything about acting. &nbsp;Or how I frequently break my own rules when I perform scenes. <br /><br />I love when students think they know more than their teachers. &nbsp;Makes me wonder how miserable their parents must be raising them. &nbsp;I'm proud my children respect their parents and teachers because they understand their worth. &nbsp;We've already lived more and experienced some shit. &nbsp;They can learn from us. &nbsp;This is not rocket science.<br /><br />Have I answered the question I posted? &nbsp;I gave you a word, didn't I? &nbsp;I didn't say go fuck yourself. &nbsp;You figure it out. &nbsp;When you find the truth, let me know. &nbsp;I'll probably catch you on a Broadway stage while I'm in New York cheering my beloved Mets to a World Series victory (or on the big screen if you can get endorsed by <i>Entertainment Weekly</i> - that's the ticket to Hollywood).<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-5587583621899654642015-09-02T09:16:00.000-07:002015-09-02T09:16:37.439-07:00On Your Mark, Get Set, Teach!The school year started abruptly last week, but I find myself enjoying my return to the classroom for what begins my 25th year as an educator (23rd full-time teaching). &nbsp;How in the world can the time have passed so quickly? &nbsp;Seems like yesterday that I graduated from college and had my whole life ahead of me. &nbsp;Now, I have my own child in one of my classes! &nbsp;And another knocking on the door. &nbsp;Crazy. &nbsp;But I wouldn't trade any of it.<br /><br />We all know teachers get shit on regularly. &nbsp;We're the fucking toilet bowls of society. &nbsp;But I've made a promise to myself (and to my wife and children) that I would stay positive this year. &nbsp;So, despite the myriad of initiatives (which aren't new - only a rehash of what we've already been made to do a hundred times over), the lack of funding, the feeble pay and horrible benefits, the administrative indecisiveness and kowtowing, I plan to kick some serious ass in the classroom this year and enjoy myself along the way.<br /><br />How? &nbsp;It all starts with the kids. &nbsp;They are why I became a teacher, and why I still push myself every year to keep on chooglin. &nbsp;I love their spirit, their innocence, their smiles, their individual journeys. &nbsp;Do I have the same energy I had when I first started out? &nbsp;Not even close. &nbsp;Am I all-knowing now that I have all these years of experience? &nbsp;Not a chance. &nbsp;One of the best things about being a teacher is that you're always learning. &nbsp;You have to love school. &nbsp;You get high off clean notebooks and freshly sharpened pencils.<br /><br />Do I make mistakes? &nbsp;You bet your ass. &nbsp;I'm not perfect. &nbsp;But I still have the Drago factor (as an apt pupil put it many years ago when I reluctantly said goodbye). &nbsp;If you know me, you know how passionate I am. &nbsp;How committed I am to fairness and honesty. &nbsp;How genuine (yes, I like to say shit and fuck and balls a lot). <br /><br />If you've had me as a teacher, you should get that. &nbsp;That's what I hope I'm remembered for. &nbsp;Forget all the acting I've done and characters I've played, I never wear a mask. &nbsp;Above all, that's what I want my students to learn from me. &nbsp;Be yourself. &nbsp;Don't be ashamed or afraid of who you are. &nbsp;Life is too short to be an image.<br /><br />Thank you to all the teachers who shaped me into who I am today, especially Mr. Martin, Mr. Ferrell, Mr. Rogers, Dr. Campbell, Dr. Farness, and Dr. Woodman. &nbsp;I carry the torch for everything you believed and inspired. &nbsp;You are important to your students. &nbsp;You make the world a better place.<br /><br /><br />Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-84622485462846672732015-07-14T07:08:00.001-07:002015-07-14T07:08:48.515-07:00Guest Post - "Leap of Faith" by Jay Wilburn<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:TargetScreenSize>800x600</o:TargetScreenSize> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings></xml><![endif]--><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> 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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/> </w:LatentStyles></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]><style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";} </style><![endif]--> "Leap of Faith" by <a href="http://jaywilburn.com/" target="_blank">Jay Wilburn</a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--HJUqQ0W5ik/VaRJ1WL_UEI/AAAAAAAAAcE/-lbrH3dY3SM/s1600/Author%2BPhoto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--HJUqQ0W5ik/VaRJ1WL_UEI/AAAAAAAAAcE/-lbrH3dY3SM/s320/Author%2BPhoto.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">My teaching certificate expired on June 30<sup>th</sup> of this year. I taught for sixteen years before quitting to take care of my younger son’s health needs, but also to pursue a dream of being a full-time writer. There was a stretch of doubtful days there. Both with the medical care of my son and the notion of making a living at writing, there were some dark days. Eventually he grew better and I started expanding my income with my own fiction and with ghostwriting. Both sources of income were slow builds. There was more than once that I considering packing it up and going back to teaching. I believe teaching is a noble profession, but I also believe I am done with it. Each time I stuck it out with doing what people say is not possible, we made it a little bit further. I was surrounded by people who doubted I could pull it off and expressed their doubts in ways that would pull down my spirit. I had to fight through that and keep my skin too tough to let that in.<br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">All important decisions require a leap of faith. You usually can’t see where you are going to land. You just kind of trust that you are going to land one way or the other. Others won’t make that same leap because they can’t see the landing spot and if it is too far down, you could die. They’ll resent you for jumping when they would not. Some of the people who celebrate the successful landing resent the fact that you survived the fall, but just don’t want to be the person that expresses such a thing out loud. &nbsp;Leaps of faith almost always come before the other side of the jump is ready and secure. You could wait a few months or a few years until the other option is ready. You can wait until the construction of the other life has been completed, the inspections are done, and it looks secure. That is what a responsible person does. The problem is that when you are going for something beyond what most people think is possible, the other side of the leap is never finished before jump time. There will be other opportunities and you can wait, but often the wait becomes the life. You can resent yourself for not jumping and resent those that jumped anyway. The risk is never going to be gone and often the secure life can fall apart like it wasn’t supposed to do while you are waiting for the risk on the other side of the intended leap to mitigate itself.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">I always caveat these discussions of writing full-time by saying there is nothing wrong with keeping a day job and writing in the spare moments. There is nothing cowardly in that choice. I’m not telling people to quit their jobs. I’m also not telling you that you can’t. If you resent people who have leapt or resent yourself for not leaping, the healthy choice is either to leap or to find peace in the choice you are making. Look at it as a choice instead of a trap. Believe that you are strong enough to face the day whether it is conquering the monsters you know all too well because you are stronger than them or whether it is leaping to conquer the unknown. You can fight either battle, but never think that you are trapped. The worst that can happen with either choice is that you fail miserably and have to start over. People do it all the time.<br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">My biggest fear used to be losing my job. I hated getting up in the morning and feared losing the job at the same time. So many of us fight and pray to keep jobs and lives that we hate. When they do fall apart, we land somewhere eventually. Sometimes it is a painful journey to the landing, but we often look back where we were standing and are so thankful to not be there anymore. &nbsp;One thing you can be pretty sure of in your life: one day you will either leap or you will fall from where you are standing at this moment and you will land somewhere. It is great to look back once the journey is over and to be less afraid of that drop than you were before.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;"><br /></div>Check out the latest book and music from a new series by Jay Wilburn: <br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00YDZKXCI/jaywil0d-20" target="_blank"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Dead Song LegendDodecology Book 1: January from Milwaukee to Muscle Shoals</i></a> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/amazing-circle-of-suffering/id996569862?i=996569871&amp;ign-mpt=uo%3D4" target="_blank"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Sound May Suffer -Songs from the Dead Song Legend Book 1: January</i></a> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Jay Wilburn lives with his wife and two sons in Conway, South Carolina near the Atlantic coast of the southern United States. He taught public school for sixteen years before becoming a full time writer. He is the author of the<i> Dead Song Legend Dodecology</i> and the music of the five song soundtrack recorded as if by the characters within the world of the novel <i>The Sound May Suffer</i>.&nbsp;</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Follow his many dark thoughts on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/amongthezombies" target="_blank">@AmongTheZombies</a>, his <a href="https://www.facebook.com/writerjaywilburn" target="_blank">Facebook</a> author page, and at <a href="http://jaywilburn.com/">JayWilburn.com</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4dbsgdYV8E8/VaRIlF8k53I/AAAAAAAAAb0/iSaPtmGMlUI/s1600/Dead%2BBook%2BCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4dbsgdYV8E8/VaRIlF8k53I/AAAAAAAAAb0/iSaPtmGMlUI/s320/Dead%2BBook%2BCover.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LqgMzl-F684/VaRI88P4wBI/AAAAAAAAAb8/_IC7_MiY8mY/s1600/Sound%2BCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LqgMzl-F684/VaRI88P4wBI/AAAAAAAAAb8/_IC7_MiY8mY/s320/Sound%2BCover.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-51558526488122594482015-07-06T06:28:00.001-07:002015-07-08T05:03:56.181-07:00Summer List #3 - My Favorite AlbumsThis won't be as tough for me as the other lists because I'm a singles guy. &nbsp;My dad kept our house stocked with 45's when I was a kid, so that stuck with me. &nbsp;Most of my album collection is made up of greatest hits compilations. &nbsp;I get bored with album tracks, especially now that I'm old and have no attention span.<br /><br />Only albums released during my lifetime were considered, but there are a few different rules here. &nbsp;First of all, no Elvis. &nbsp;I'd pick <i>Elvis Country</i> from 1970 if I had to, but would rather just provide my own album. &nbsp;Here's&nbsp;<i>Elvis: The Best Album Tracks of the 70s</i>. &nbsp;Picture him on the cover doing a Vegas move in a diamond-studded jumpsuit. &nbsp;Remember, Elvis rarely included songs released as singles on his studio albums, so you won't find "Burning Love" or the like here.<br /><br />Side A<br />"I Was Born About 10,000 Years Ago" (1970)<br />"Cindy, Cindy" (1970)<br />"How the Web Was Woven" (1970)<br />"I Washed My Hands in Muddy Water" (1970)<br />"Whole Lotta Shakin Goin On" (1970)<br /><br />Side B<br />"Love Me, Love the Life I Lead" (1971)<br />"If You Don't Come Back" (1973)<br />"I Got A Feeling in My Body" (1973)<br />"Talk about the Good Times" (1973)<br />"Your Love's Been a Long Time Coming" (1973)<br /><br />As for the rest, nothing posthumous (sorry, Otis Redding; although <i>Tell the Truth</i> is outstanding and released about a year after I was born). &nbsp;Also, no compilations (that would way too difficult for me). &nbsp;And only one album per artist except where I cheat. &nbsp;These are listed in order by favorite.<br /><br />1. <i>Diary of a Madman</i>&nbsp;(1981) by Ozzy Osbourne/<i>Black Sabbath Vol. 4</i>&nbsp;(1972) by Black Sabbath<br />Although neither of these discs have the commercial appeal of&nbsp;<i>Blizzard of Ozz</i> (1981) or <i>Paranoid</i> (1970), I think they're better. &nbsp;<i>Diary</i> is my favorite album of all-time. &nbsp;It started everything for me. &nbsp;I can't hardly think about the songs without getting teary-eyed. &nbsp;Give the title track a listen. &nbsp;It's scarier than "Black Sabbath." &nbsp;It inspired every horror story I've ever written. &nbsp;After Elvis, Ozzy is (and always will be) my hero. &nbsp;The riffs on <i>Vol. 4</i> are mind-blowing. &nbsp;I love Tony, Geezer, and Bill like family.<br /><br />2.&nbsp;<i>Cosmo's Factory</i>&nbsp;(1970) by CCR/<i>Blue Moon Swamp</i>&nbsp;(1997) by John Fogerty<br />John Fogerty follows close on Ozzy's heels. &nbsp;His guitar playing is often overlooked because his scratchy vocals are a rock inspiration. &nbsp;<i>Cosmo's Factory</i> is the album every 50's artist (including Elvis) would've recorded if they'd stuck to their roots. &nbsp;<i>Blue Moon Swap</i>,&nbsp;part comeback/part throwback, has sentimental value (like all those listed here) and beats out <i>Centerfield</i>&nbsp;for me.<br /><br />3.&nbsp;<i>High Voltage</i>&nbsp;(1976)/<i>Stiff Upper Lip</i>&nbsp;(2000) by ACDC<br />My younger brother told me he thinks every album Bon Scott ever recorded is better than any album Brian Johnson recorded (including <i>Back in Black</i>). &nbsp;I agree. &nbsp;But <i>Stiff Upper Lip</i> is fucking awesome and deserves a place here.<br /><br />4.&nbsp;<i>Business as Usual</i>&nbsp;(1981)/<i>Cargo</i>&nbsp;(1983) by Men at Work<br />Men at Work was the first concert I remember. &nbsp;Even before Ozzy, I think. &nbsp;I love these two albums. &nbsp;I'm not sure anyone ever came out of the shoot with better back to back openers. &nbsp;Too bad they fizzled out as fast they hit (although my brother tells me Colin Hay's solo efforts are outstanding).<br /><br />5.&nbsp;<i>Flaming Pie</i>&nbsp;(1997) by Paul McCartney/<i>Abbey Road</i>&nbsp;(1969) by The Beatles/<i>Venus and Mars</i>&nbsp;(1975) by Wings<br />The Beatles are the greatest band ever. &nbsp;No question. &nbsp;I'm glad I get to put one of their albums on my list (with a month and a half to spare!). &nbsp;I also love Wings. &nbsp;<i>Flaming Pie</i> is the best album Paul McCartney recorded as a solo artist. &nbsp;I'm not familiar enough with John Lennon's album tracks (or George Harrison's, for that matter) to give either a spot on the list.<br /><br />6.&nbsp;<i>Honeycomb</i>&nbsp;(2005) by Frank Black<br />The Pixies frontman delivers my favorite soul album. &nbsp;The studio musicians who played on Elvis' 1969 comeback sessions are here. &nbsp;I've seen Frank Black live. &nbsp;He's a machine. &nbsp;Listen to "My Life Is in Storage" if nothing else.<br /><br />7.&nbsp;<i>River of Dreams</i>&nbsp;(1993) by Billy Joel<br />Glad Billy Joel saved his best for last.<br /><br />8.&nbsp;<i>Graceland</i>&nbsp;(1986) by Paul Simon<br />The title track is my life story (sort of). &nbsp;The pilgrimage I made when I turned 40 is everything Paul Simon told me it would be.<br /><i><br /></i>9.&nbsp;<i>When We Were the New Boys</i> (1998)/<i>A Spanner in the Works</i> (1995) by Rod Stewart<br />I went through a Rod Stewart phase in the late 90s (loved him in concert) and found these two works to be the equal of anything he'd done prior to throat surgery. &nbsp;I can't take the pop standard shit he recorded afterwards.<br /><i><br /></i>10.&nbsp;<i>Yo Frankie</i> by Dion (1990)/<i>Mystery Girl</i> (1989) by Roy Orbison<br />Two of my all-time favorite rock and roll pioneers made a run in the late 80s with these incredible albums. &nbsp;Too bad Roy Orbison died just as "You Got It" hit the charts. &nbsp;Dion's album rocks more and gets the slight edge.<br /><i><br /></i>11.&nbsp;<i>Madonna</i> (1983) by Madonna/<i>She's So Unusual</i>&nbsp;(1983) by Cyndi Lauper<br />Hard not to pick <i>Like a Virgin</i> but Madonna's debut album never fails. &nbsp;I remember falling in love with her the first time I heard her voice while driving to school. &nbsp;Cyndi Lauper, probably a better singer, created the soundtrack to my freshman year of high school with this one.<br /><i><br /></i>12.&nbsp;<i>Lonely Just Like Me</i>&nbsp;(1993) by Arthur Alexander/<i>If I Could Only Fly</i>&nbsp;(2000) by Merle Haggard<br />A couple of geezers by the time of these two country releases. &nbsp;Perhaps that's what makes them so special.<br /><i><br /></i>13.&nbsp;<i>New Beginning</i>&nbsp;(1995) by Tracy Chapman/<i>In Between Dreams</i>&nbsp;(2005) by Jack Johnson<br />When I need something mellow, these never fail.<br /><i><br /></i>14.&nbsp;<i>Big Tyme</i>&nbsp;(1989) by Heavy D/<i>Fear of a Black Planet</i>&nbsp;(1990) by Public Enemy/<i>Knowledge Is King</i>&nbsp;(1989) by Kool Moe Dee/<i>It's a Big Daddy Thing</i>&nbsp;(1989) by Big Daddy Kane<br />Yes, I went through a rap stage in the late 80s. &nbsp;These four are my favorite. &nbsp;I still remember all the words when I listen.<br /><br />15. Every Album by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/thefurnaceband" target="_blank">The Furnace</a> (1999 - present)<br />Now what kind of brother would I be if I didn't plug my brother's indie heavy metal band? &nbsp;Part Metallica, part Godsmack, part Creed, they've had two incredible singers during their run and both are equally talented frontmen. &nbsp;Their guitarists kick ass (I'm partial, yes). &nbsp;Their drummers reign supreme. &nbsp;They've been scorching the Valley of the Sun for almost 20 years now. &nbsp;Like them on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/thefurnaceband" target="_blank">Facebook</a>.Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-33527493806167867852015-06-29T08:40:00.000-07:002015-06-29T08:40:01.795-07:00Summer List #2 - My Favorite TV ShowsIn order to create this list, I researched the top 300 shows of the last five decades. &nbsp;Again, the only rule that applies is that the show must've debuted after I was born (at least in its current format). &nbsp;So, you won't see <i>The Honeymooners</i> on this list even though it's my all-time favorite TV show. <br /><br />I learned something about myself while putting this list together. &nbsp;I don't watch a lot of television. &nbsp;That's a good thing, right? <br /><br />But, I've also missed out on plenty of good programming. &nbsp;I have too much going on in my life to make the necessary commitment, I guess. &nbsp;At some point, I might try binge-watching. &nbsp;Right now, I'd rather not waste my time in front of the screen (at least not that one). <br /><br />So, if you see shows missing from my list, I guarantee it's because I've never seen an episode (I feel most guilty about <i>The Sopranos</i>, by the way). &nbsp;Rarely, have I started a program and not watched it through until it's run its course (or at least until it's jumped the shark). &nbsp;Not my personality type. &nbsp;I finish what I start. <br /><br />The programs are listed in order by favorite and grouped by genre.<br /><br /><b>Sitcoms</b><br /><i>Seinfeld</i>, 1989-1998<br /><i>All in the Family</i>, 1971-1979<br /><i>The Odd Couple</i>, 1970-1975<br /><i>Everybody Loves Raymond</i>, 1996-2005<br /><i>Curb Your Enthusiasm</i>, 1999-2011<br /><i>Taxi</i>, 1978-1983<br /><i>Happy Days</i>, 1974-1984<br /><i>The Big Bang Theory</i>, 2007 - present<br /><i>East Bound and Down</i>, 2009-2013<br /><i>Married with Children</i>, 1987-1997<br /><br /><b>Science Fiction/Supernatural Dramas</b><br /><i>The Six Million Dollar Man</i>, 1974-1978<br /><i>Buffy the Vampire Slayer</i>, 1997-2003<br /><i>The Incredible Hulk</i>, 1978-1982<br /><i>The Walking Dead</i>, 2010 - present<br /><i>Chuck</i>, 2007-2012<br /><br /><b>Legal/Crime-Action Dramas</b><br /><i>Magnum P.I.,</i>&nbsp;1980-1988<br /><i>Law &amp; Order SVU</i>, 1999 - present<br /><br /><b>Soap Opera</b><br /><i>The Young &amp; the Restless</i>, 1973 - present<br /><br /><b>Comedy/Variety Shows</b><br /><i>Whose Line Is It Anyway?</i>, 1998-2007<br /><i>The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon</i>, 2014 - present<br /><i>Saturday Night Live</i>, 1975 - present<br /><br /><b>Game Shows</b><br /><i>Jeopardy</i>, 1984 - present<br /><i>Wheel of Fortune</i>, 1975 - present<br /><i>The Price Is Right</i>, 1972 - present<br /><br /><b>Animated Sitcoms</b><br /><i>The Simpsons</i>, 1989 - present<br /><i>Bob's Burgers</i>, 2011 - present<br /><br /><b>Sports</b><br /><i>Monday Night Football</i>, 1970 - present<br /><i>SportsCenter</i>, 1979 - present<br /><br /><b>News</b><br /><i>CBS Evening News with Dan Rather</i>, 1981-1993<br /><i>AC360</i>, 2003 - presentThomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-35974091953696432372015-06-22T17:30:00.000-07:002015-06-22T17:30:48.322-07:00Summer List #1 - My Favorite 50 MoviesMovies have always played an important role in my life.&nbsp; They are my favorite form of entertainment.&nbsp; Except for perhaps vocal melody, I believe motion pictures provide us with the greatest potential for artistic achievement.&nbsp; When I was young, I staged imaginary movies with my younger brother.&nbsp; Together, we wrote, directed, and performed.&nbsp; I wish we would've had cameras to capture the magic.&nbsp; I think the list says a lot about me.&nbsp; I enjoy epic dramas, some horror movies, plenty of screwball comedies, and blockbusters.&nbsp; I don't care for art house crap.&nbsp; Some of the most popular franchises are missing.&nbsp; You'll see which ones.&nbsp; For the record, I differentiate between what I call my favorites and what could be considered the best.&nbsp; In other words, not all the ones I enjoy won awards.<br /><br />Really, there's only one rule here.&nbsp; The movie had to be released during my lifetime.&nbsp; Oh, and I listed only one film from any series.&nbsp; So, I guess that's two rules.&nbsp; These are in chronological order by first release.<br /><br /><i>The Godfather</i>, 1972<br /><i>Jaws</i>, 1975 <br /><i>One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest</i>, 1975<br /><i>Rocky</i>, 1976<br /><i>The Pink Panther Strikes Again</i>, 1976 <br /><i>Smokey and the Bandit</i>, 1977 <br /><i>Raiders of the Lost Ark</i>, 1981<br /><i>Poltergeist</i>, 1982 <br /><i>First Blood</i>, 1982<br /><i>Friday the 13th Part IV</i>, 1984 <br /><i>The Breakfast Club</i>, 1985<br /><i>Fletch</i>, 1985 <br /><i>Back to the Future</i>, 1985<br /><i>Aliens</i>, 1986 <br /><i>Raising Arizona</i>, 1987 <br /><i>Die Hard</i>, 1988 <br /><i>The 'Burbs</i>, 1989 <br /><i>Christmas Vacation</i>, 1989<br /><i>Goodfellas</i>, 1990 <br /><i>The Silence of the Lambs</i>, 1991<br /><i>Terminator 2</i>, 1991 <br /><i>Cape Fear</i>, 1991 <br /><i>Schindler's List</i>, 1993 <br /><i>Pulp Fiction</i>, 1994<br /><i>Braveheart</i>, 1995<br /><i>Donnie Brasco</i>, 1997<br /><i>The Big Lebowski</i>, 1998<br /><i>Saving Private Ryan</i>, 1998 <br /><i>Office Space</i>, 1999<br /><i>Analyze This</i>, 1999<br /><i>The Green Mile</i>, 1999&nbsp; <br /><i>Cast Away</i>, 2000 <br /><i>Signs</i>, 2002<br /><i>Gangs of New York</i>. 2002 <br /><i>Old School</i>, 2003 <br /><i>Pirates of the Caribbean</i>, 2003<br /><i>Shaun of the Dead</i>, 2004 <br /><i>Meet the Fockers</i>, 2004<br /><i>Talladega Nights</i>, 2006<br /><i>The Departed</i>, 2006<br /><i>Superbad</i>, 2007 <br /><i>No Country for Old Men</i>, 2007<br /><i>Step Brothers</i>, 2008<br /><i>Inglourious Basterds</i>, 2009 <br /><i>Super 8</i>, 2011<br /><i>Ted</i>, 2012<br /><i>The Campaign</i>, 2012<br /><i>Flight</i>, 2012 <br /><i>Silver Linings Playbook</i>, 2012<br /><i>This Is the End</i>, 2013 Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048417801366721624.post-51825223127618592142015-06-01T11:14:00.000-07:002015-06-01T11:14:50.627-07:00QuotesI enjoy making lists and collecting quotes. &nbsp;I have a folder in my file cabinet full of them. &nbsp;Most of what interests me comes from television and the movies, so you won't find anything profound like "I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds." or "Dear me, I think I'm becoming a God." &nbsp;But, you will find Poe's "God help my poor soul." because there's something about his struggle that fascinates me. <br /><br />Some of the lines are funny. &nbsp;Some are stupid. &nbsp;Most reveal something about my place in the world at the time I first heard them. &nbsp;I spend a lot of time searching for answers. &nbsp;These provide me with a glimpse of hope.<br /><br />"That's what a writer does. &nbsp;Takes the truth and twists it."<br />-Lucille Ball, 1950's.<br /><br />"How she feels? &nbsp;How 'bout me? &nbsp;How 'bout how I feel?"<br />"You're gonna get it. &nbsp;I don't know what second, what minute, but you're gonna get yours."<br />-Ralph Kramden (Jackie Gleason). &nbsp;<i>The Honeymooners</i>, 1950's.<br /><br />"I want love. &nbsp;I want life, damn it!"<br />"In the midst of death, we are in life."<br />"It makes you feel less lonely in the dark."<br />-General Leo FitzJohn (Peter Sellers). &nbsp;<i>Waltz of the Toreadors</i>, 1962.<br /><br />"I can make you do anything I want. &nbsp;Absolutely anything. &nbsp;I can make you dance. &nbsp;I can make you sit or kneel, or I can take away your power like this!"<br />-El Presidente Rodriguez. &nbsp;<i>Gilligan's Island</i>, 1965.<br /><br />"It's real! &nbsp;It's real! &nbsp;No matter what it is, it's not nothing."<br />-Dwayne Schneider (Pat Harrington) on death. &nbsp;<i>One Day at a Time</i>. 1970's.<br /><br />"The universe is a very big place, but if you accept me, we could make it one step smaller."<br />-Mork from Ork (Robin Williams). &nbsp;<i>Mork and Mindy</i>, 1980's.<br /><div><br /></div>"There are many things in this universe you're not meant to understand. &nbsp;But they are real. &nbsp;I'm real."<br />-Alf (Gordon Shumway). &nbsp;<i>Alf</i>, 1980's.<br />"Can you please explain to me the meaning of the word, 'oops'?"<br />-Willie Tanner (Max Wright), &nbsp;<i>Alf</i>, 1980's.<br /><br />"I've never seen that. &nbsp;I never seen anybody drive their garbage down to the street and then bang the hell out of it with a stick. &nbsp;I've never seen that."<br />-Ray Peterson (Tom Hanks). &nbsp;<i>The Burbs</i>, 1989.<br /><br />"You have just said goodbye to oxygen."<br />-Big Boy (Al Pacino). &nbsp;<i>Dick Tracy</i>, 1990.<br /><div><br /></div>"I'd rather be a failure in something that I loved than a success in something that I didn't."<br />-George Burns, 1991.<br /><br />"The male kangaroo doesn't have a pouch. &nbsp;Only the female has it, so the male has pouch envy. &nbsp;Why should she have this huge pouch, and I have nothing? &nbsp;I have things to carry, too. &nbsp;At least, at least give me a pocket."<br />-Polar Bear. &nbsp;<i>Seinfeld</i>, 1992.<br /><div><br /></div>"Pull the string!"<br />-Bela Lugosi (Martin Landau). &nbsp;<i>Ed Wood</i>, 1994.<br /><br />"Necessary? &nbsp;Is it necessary for me to drink my own urine? &nbsp;No. &nbsp;But I do it anyway 'cause it's sterile and I like the taste."<br />Patches O'Houlihan (Rip Torn). &nbsp;<i>Dodgeball</i>, 2004.<br /><div><br /></div>"That's good. &nbsp;Pretend he's your little sister. &nbsp;Your little sister with a pitcher. &nbsp;Playin' a little guitar."<br />Officer Slater (Bill Hader). &nbsp;<i>Superbad</i>, 2007.<br />"He's a freak. &nbsp;He's the fastest kid alive. &nbsp;He's the fastest kid alive."<br />Officer Michaels (Seth Rogen). &nbsp;<i>Superbad</i>, 2007.<br /><br />"I drink your milkshake."<br />-Daniel Plainview (Daniel Day-Lewis). &nbsp;<i>There Will Be Blood</i>, 2007.<br /><br />Here's my favorite quote from any stage play (and since I've done theatre for over 35 years now, I think it matters.)<br /><br />"And you - ain't you bitter, man? &nbsp;Ain't you just about had it yet? &nbsp;Don't you see no stars gleaming that you can't just reach out and grab? &nbsp;You happy? &nbsp;You contented son of a bitch - you happy? &nbsp;You got it made? &nbsp;Bitter? &nbsp;Man, I'm a volcano. &nbsp;Bitter? &nbsp;Here I am - a giant, surrounded by ants! &nbsp;Ants who can't even understand what it is the giant is talking about!"<br />-Brother Younger (Danny Glover). &nbsp;<i>A Raisin in the Sun</i>, 1959 (original Broadway production).<br /><br />Here are a couple of personal ones.<br /><br />"e to the motherfuckin tan" - graffiti I found scribbled in a high school notebook, 2005. &nbsp;A former student and I were cleaning out my classroom. &nbsp;I tore out the scrap of paper and saved it.<br /><br />"I'm real. I'm freakishly truthful."<br />-Graham Schaafsma, 2008. &nbsp;(A student of mine, I think, using an alias. &nbsp;If anyone knows who this is, please let me know.)<br /><br />"bannes, grips, wall-meel. all frista" - my grandfather's shopping list, early 1980's. &nbsp;I kept this, but not to shame him. &nbsp;Thinking about him and the time we spent together (with my brothers) makes me smile. &nbsp;He's the one person I wish my wife and children could've met. &nbsp;The note, of course, was a reminder for my grandmother to grab bananas, grapes, and watermelon while at the supermarket. &nbsp;All fruit.Thomas Dragohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08280378647211755132noreply@blogger.com0